


Psychomachia

by for_autumn_i_am



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: (smug) top Kylo, (usually) top Hux, Action/Adventure, Anal Sex, Bickering, Biting, Bloodplay, Bruising, Come Eating, Dark Comedy, Discipline, Dom/sub Undertones, Force Visions, Hux in a variety of outfits, Inappropriate Use of First Order Resources, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Invading Planets & Chill, Lots of kissing, M/M, Manipulation, Millicent the cat - Freeform, Murder, Mutilation, Now get ready for serious stuff treated as crack, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot Twists, Politics, Powerplay, Quickies, Sniper Hux, Space travel!, The Full & Unabridged Story of Armitage Hux Becoming a General, There'll Be Dancing, What happens when you tie all the tropes together in a narrative, You’ve heard of crack treated seriously, god help me, pre-SW:TFA, some Kylo Amidala aesthetics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-24
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-07-26 10:30:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 75,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7570705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/for_autumn_i_am/pseuds/for_autumn_i_am
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>By the time the events of SW:TFA unfold, Armitage Hux and Kylo Ren are bitter exes. This is what happened before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There's some wonderful art for Psychomachia which I'm really excited to share with you!
> 
> ✮ [sheepandpencils](http://sheepandpencils.tumblr.com/post/155475532245/this-is-my-very-very-very-overdue-gift-for-the) made a gorgeous drawing for chapter 2 and I'm in love  
> ✮ I comissioned the amazing [flurgburgler](http://flurgburgler.tumblr.com/post/152773446118/commission-for-the-wonderful) to illustrate the last scene and _oh boy_ did she deliver. I love it so so much!  
>  ✮ [Sybil](http://some-sybil-shit.tumblr.com/post/149231665114/let-me-tell-you-about-this-important-fic-its) made a slightly NSFW cover art for the fic, and I'm totally blown away - check it out  
> ✮ [4thLannister](http://4th-lannister.tumblr.com/post/157091973149/our-lord-and-savior-general-hux) illustrated out Lord and Saviour, General Hux ✿
> 
>  **Please note** that this fic was basically my first Kylux work. The dynamics portrayed reflects the **hard Kylux** trend, and the writing is not perfectly polished. Please mind the tags.

When they first met, Starkiller Base was nothing but a glorified snowball, Hux was a second lieutenant, and Kylo Ren was a mild warning in his daily briefing.

The Knights of Ren were greeted by General N., best left unnamed; she died under mysterious and very advantageous circumstances years later. One could argue that murdering his fellow officers in cold blood did not make Hux a valuable asset to the First Order. By Hux’s logic, such an assumption would be wrong, of course. He had the best interest of the galaxy at heart, and the best interest of the galaxy happened to be him.

How he came to meet Ren had nothing to do with his scheming and plotting. For the most part, it was General N.’s fault. She simply had too many damn officers on duty, and she wasn’t quite sure what to do with them, so she’d send most of the lower ranks to strategical fieldwork, which meant that one had to confirm whether the weather was too bloody awful to get any work done.

On that day, the weather was _especially_ bloody awful.

Hux was huddled close to a lieutenant and about twenty warrant officers, much to his discomfort. They kept him warm, but they kept him away from supervising the stormtroopers. The group was observing in blissful apathy as a distant snowstorm swept hangar V17 away.

“There it goes,” one of them muttered.

“Good riddance.”

Hux was much more interested in the black silhouettes he assumed to be the Knights of Ren, marching two by two towards the relative safety of hangar V16. Their black cloaks were flapping around, their faces hidden under heavy masks. They looked menacing and otherworldly and pretty pissed, nightmarish demeanors tempered by the impression of a group of tourists whose holiday just got ruined.  A visibly distressed General N. trailed behind them, trying her best to excuse the weather, and she was failing spectacularly.

Hux had heard of the Knights, but had never met any, so he got oddly excited. They were the stuff of legends in the Order, or more exactly, the stuff of drunken cryptic gossip. Hux couldn’t care less about the horrors of the Force, but he liked rubbing shoulders with people of great importance, and he had a weak spot for prized warriors. With a touch of naivety, he decided for himself that Lord Kylo Ren must be the tallest one. From this distance, he looked like a very imposing burial flag on a tall poll.

Hux was watching him, veiled by glistering and seething snow. He wanted to savor every moment of the happy accident of laying eyes on the Supreme Leader’s favorite. A borderline titillating sensation crept up his spine; he was watching the reflection of his own importance in someone else’s prism, shining brilliantly. Hux’s accomplishments had little to do with his birthname, to which he barely had a claim anyway, and his expensive schooling had only gotten him so far; but he had a keen eye and a sharp brain.

Exhibit A: there were about thirty people around, and he was the only one who spotted that the icicles hanging on the roof of hangar V16 started dribbling.

He connected the dots within a second. Dribbling icicles in the middle of a snowstorm meant sudden heat; sudden heat in a hangar meant malfunctioning; malfunctioning in a hangar meant explosions.

“Get down!”

His voice was piercing, and the wind carried it. He dived into the snow, and the warrant officers followed suit. He kept his gaze on Probably Ren as  the furious cloud of the explosion raced towards the man, erupting into thick smoke with a deafening boom.

“ _Get down_ !” echoed General N., late and utterly unnecessary. The Knights fell  in formation the same soundless way birds fly in a V. Hux fancied he could hear great wings flapping, and then he realised the Knights must be speaking in a long-dead language, many voices but the same ancient words whispering at the edge of his consciousness. Hux watched, mouth agape, as Ren lifted his hand and, spreading his fingers, _pushed_ the explosion back.

The Knights were all standing there, arms outstretched, as the explosion started devouring itself, flicks of flames crackling and spitting sparks. An X-wing emerged from the burning hangar: the arsonist.

“Stop it!” Hux yelled, knowing that it was impossible, hoping that the Knights of Ren could do the impossible.

The Knights reached for the starfighter, dreamy, as if they were yearning to touch it, and then Ren curled his hand into a fist.

The X-wing stopped.

There was a pulsing sound. The whispers were back. The snowflakes were dancing around with the sparks, but everything else was motionless. The vehicle tried to get away, engines roaring, but the Force pulled it back; Hux could feel it resonating through his bones.

The X-wing was slanting downwards, softly, as if it wasn’t weighing anything at all.

The lieutenant mouthed:

“It can’t be.”

Hux allowed himself a faint smirk and didn’t say anything as he got to his feet.

 

The Knights of Ren stopped a starfighter in its flight. The case was a curious incident, but not of any interest as far as the Order was concerned. The pilot was dead by the end of the interrogation process, and he didn't give them anything useful. The X-wing was an old model, and couldn't be traced either to the New Republic or the Resistance. The cold war raged on.

 

When Hux made sure that he had nothing of importance to report, he approached his senior officer.

“I'm asking to be brought before court, ma’am.”

Lieutenant Leqarna just looked at him. “What’s this about?” 

“I issued a command I should not have. My superiors were present, and I acted on behalf of them without permission. It was wrong of me, and I take full responsibility.”

Lieutenant Leqarna pinched the bridge of her nose, and muttered, tired and resigned, “Hux, for stars’ sake, you won't be punished for this. If anything, you'll be promoted. You’re dismissed.”

Hux saluted her, and dropped his shoulders as if he was relieved, eyes glinting with phony glee.

He needed his so-called superiors to believe that he was talented, but unambitious, an obedient genius whose sole bliss was a patronizing pat on his shoulders. He aimed for the impression of a man who shoved a stick up his arse every morning, and then jerked off to the Order’s manifesto.

He came up with the plans of the revised stormtrooper programme during his cadet years. He made a pretty slideshow and everything, which he proudly presented to the Academy's debating society. He planned the troopers’ syllabi from year zero in exquisite detail.  

His project got the attention of the First Order, and of course, his father, who cursed him for tampering with his ideas, called him a fraud and a sellout. It didn't matter; the Order hailed him as a prodigy.

He had no hope of actually leading the stormtrooper programme; he was unqualified and far too young, but the Order had noticed him, and preferred his bold innovations to his father's dated ideas.

He was climbing the ladder steadily whilst innocently whistling. By the time he was second lieutenant, he was working on the early drafts of Starkiller Base with the First Order's selected engineers, and so it happened that no one cared anymore whether he’s seen real battle. The bony bastard that he was proved to be more valuable than the well-bred and battle-worn veterans; and he was just getting started.

He was an excellent strategist and inventor and to top it all, a superb shot. The Supreme Leader referred to him as “a virtuoso in the art of war” in one of his briefings, and Hux bowed his head to the compliment with calculated modesty.

The sole fault regarding his aspirations was that neither the stormtrooper programme, nor the newest death star would be enough to fulfill them, to make him the rightful leader of the galaxy. They merely served the First Order's interest.

And that's how Ren came into the picture.

Hux carried the frozen explosion in his memories, the roar of the engines forever ringing in his ears. He wasn’t given the gift of the Force at birth, but then again, he wasn’t given anything: his whole life, he was fighting and _winning_. He would have this power at command. He was entitled to it.

 

The problem was that Ren turned out to be an untamable twit. They ran into each other again on the ashes of a freshly occupied planet in the Thesme sector, near Ios. Lieutenant Hux was sent there to oversee the reprogramming of the troopers. Most of the buildings were still emitting smoke. Ren stepped out of the haze, rather dramatically, leading a Caridian prisoner like nobody’s business. The sentient had a vacant expression on its face, following Ren’s trudging footsteps.   

Hux suppressed a coughing fit by sheer power of will, and stood at attention, saluting. Let it be stated that there was no need for him to do it.

Ren’s data was inaccessible, but Hux figured that he was neither below nor above his ranks, which made him something of a helpful civilian in his eyes. Therefore, it was Hux who should’ve been saluted, but he was feeling generous. He regretted it within a minute. Ren marched past him, smelling of dirt and death, and through a vocoder, he said:

“At ease, Snowflakes.”

Hux had to double his sedatives for three days after that to calm his nerves.

 

He was a professional, which meant that he didn’t let petty incidents cloud his judgement. When he was sent to debrief the Knights of Ren abroad the _Vanguard_ he took his orders with grace and a swig of johrian whiskey. He finished his shift, cross-checking data, back straight, shoulders square.

The Knights gathered in the finest boardroom of the star destroyer. The faint, familiar lights of the universe through the room’s viewport were a comforting sight. The circle of the Knights was not. They were sitting in static silence, cloaked, masked, alarmingly armed with a variety of weapons. Hux was pretty sure he spotted a prod. An actual _prod_.

“On behalf of the crew, I wish to extend a gracious and inclusive welcome to all of you,” he said, voice clear. “I’m Captain Hux, and I am…”

_Don’t interrupt our counsel, Captain Smartass._

“...going to debrief you on the _Vanguard_ 's rules and policies,” he finished, ignoring the comment echoing in his mind. The voice was deep, intimate, young and human. He flinched, briefly. No one was looking at him anyway, and no one was talking. He marched to the control panel, and brought it online with soft taps. The holo of a map flickered into existence, and he glanced over his shoulders.

“Please let me begin at your earliest convenience.”

Ren crossed his arms. Hux didn’t know yet that it was a sure sign of a long sulk.

 

The _Vanguard_ was slouching towards the Dagobah-system parsec by parsec, undetected by the New Republic. Hux hadn’t been informed about the objectives of the mission. He was expected to prepare the troopers and not to ask any questions. 

Ren and company had neglected to show up at the welcome dinner held in the Knights’ honor. Brigadier Tagratt lectured him the next cycle on the bridge while Hux eavesdropped, busying himself with his datapad. It was a sight to behold, Ren towering over the pale brigadier, who stood his ground despite the fact that he was scared out of his wits when it came to mysticism.

“How do you expect me to eat in this mask?”

“You could always just take it off.”

“No, I couldn’t.”

“I’m sure you could.”

“No.”

Hux wasn’t sure how the brigadier managed to convince him at the end, but Ren showed up at the next dinner. He was wearing his mask. He sat down next to Hux, balancing on the back legs of the chair the whole time with the aid of the Force.

The brawballo was bitter under Hux’s tongue. He was beginning to wonder whether his secret superweapon of a man was indeed that super.

Every meal, Ren was balancing his chair next to him, far too close, not eating, not speaking, scaring everybody else away. Brigadier Tagratt let it go on for five cycles, and then he gritted: “You don’t find the catering satisfactory, sir?”

“You don’t want to talk to me,” Ren said with a lazy wave of his hand.

Tagratt repeated: “I don’t want to talk to you.”

Ren tilted his helmet. “You’re saying goodbye to the leftovers.”

“I am saying goodbye to the leftovers. Goodbye, leftovers.”

Hux watched as the sanctioned dantooine flapjacks hovered over Ren’s tray, and splashed on his full plate. Ren hasn’t touched any of his food, and he left the cafeteria within ten minutes, as he always did, to haunt the vending machine.

Hux stayed, and watched the overflowing tray being cleared away, and Tagratt letting it happen while his stomach rumbled.

Hux was - well. He was impressed.

 

They reached sector M19 and received the order that they were to approach the planet with TIE fighters in finger four formation; Hux was appointed to be the section leader, alongside with Ren. It would have been the perfect opportunity to begin forging their allegiance, if Hux wasn’t scared for his life.

“Can you pilot a TIE-sf?” he asked, suspicious, as he approached the vehicle. Ren was just lurking around, not taking a seat.

“I don’t know, can you?” he retorted.

“Well, you see, I can’t, so that’s why I’m asking you, since if neither of us is fit to pilot this damn thing, then we got paired up by mistake.”

“There was no mistake,” Ren stated, and climbed into the cockpit.

Hux huffed. He was feeling a bit self-conscious in the heavy suit, but he knew it was necessary to wear it, therefore his reluctance to draw attention to his fragile figure was just a childish impulse to overcome. He put on the helmet, took his position, and waited for the signal.

Ren gave no signal. And he wasn’t wearing the kriffing suit either.

They jumped into space, and Hux’s stomach dropped.

He hated flying. He _despised_ it. He loathed it just as much as being planet-bound, wasting his own time and potential. The queenly floating of the star destroyers was a completely different arrangement altogether. He was longing for the _Vanguard_ ’s order and safety as soon as they left it. His leather gloves crackled as he was gripping the controller. The helmet’s mic projected his laboured breathing, so he started timing every inhale and exhale, and forced his knees to stop wobbling. They were sitting back-to-back with Ren, but he knew the Knight could feel his panic, could sense every little pang of his weakness.

He focused his attention to the planet below, muddy and green, clouds swirling. Beautiful. Or at least, calming.

Then he remarked:

“We’ve got company.” Pirate ships - those were the worst, flying under the radar and ambushing all and sundry. Ren grunted, and Hux was quick to warn the others: “Shield one to the shields, pirate fleet at-”

He didn’t get to finish. A yank, and the stars stretched into lines of light, just for a blink; then they were suddenly viewport to viewport with a pirate ship. Hux stared into the reptilian face of the rodian pilot, blank, black eyes huge with surprise. He could feel his hands move on their own as he fired. He saw the laser flare up, but the explosion never came, because the space turned into a tunnel again and he was firing again, tearing a ship apart with a flick of thumb.

So. This was Ren’s idea of a defense attack: he kept jumping to hyperspace without warning, taking out the enemy one by one as he moved Hux’s hands with his will. It was a moment, maybe, maybe a full minute - and then there was no pirate fleet, just wrecks drifting in the vacuum.

The radio came online. Somebody was reporting something, startled, but Hux couldn’t understand. His blood was booming in his ears. He stooped over to fight his nausea, shaking, chest heaving, and he could feel cold sweat running down his temples.

 

“You are not authorised to pull this stunt ever again, Ren. Not with me, not with any other officer. Your disrespectful behavior was not noted, and I even let your little prank with the flapjacks slide, but now it is my duty to report what you did.”

“Go ahead,” Ren answered, distraught.

They were trudging through the damp swamp of the jungle, followed by the tu-whit of unnamed creatures and nasty, squidgy noises. Hux waited until it was just the two of them; public humiliation was not necessary his method of preference. It was just like Ren not to appreciate or even acknowledge his exemplary discretion.  

The Knight didn’t change clothes, and he was slowed down by the wet and muddy mess of his attire. Hux set an example by taking his helmet off, and breathing in the foul and muggy fog. He was stepping over the twisted roots of the giant trees with ease, pushing lianes away. Ren trudged on, as he was pulled by a magnet into the darkness.

“I don’t think you understand the gravity of your actions.”

“Generally, or in this specific case?”

“In this specific case.”

“You have a problem with me killing our enemies?”

Hux’s step faltered.

“I must confess that you’re an outstanding pilot, but it’s not the point.”

“I take it you haven’t seen Poe Dameron fly anything. I’d appreciate if you’d be discreet about my humble skills.”

“I’ve been nothing but discreet, and you returned the favor by discreetly invading my mind. I must admit that it was effective, but if you plan to use this technique in the future on anyone, we must establish the rules. It would be unacceptable if you could exercise your power without any control whatsoever. You’re directly responsible to the Supreme Leader; therefore, you need his permission to grant you access to-”

“My own powers? I don’t think so. Your understanding of the Force is amusing at best, Hux. You can’t tell me how to use it.”

“Captain. You will call me Captain Hux. Let’s get it out of the way: how should I address you when I tell you that you’re wrong?”

Ren refused to answer. Hux let his gaze roam over him, and asked, voice soft:

“Is it ‘ _Ben Solo, you’re wrong_ ’ or can I call you Ben?”

Ren turned on his heels, reaching towards him, fingers curling like claws. Hux began to choke, with pitiful, wet sounds, grabbing his throat by reflex. His helmet dropped to the mud. He was smirking, triumphant.

“How did you know?” Ren screamed. “Who told you?”

Hux snickered, and pointed at his neck with a sad grimace, signalling that he can’t speak. Ren let go of him, and Hux fell to his knees. His throat was burning as he gulped down air, and he could feel the cold mud crawling closer, drenching his pants. He heard a fizzling sound. He looked up, and he was faced with red, crackling light as Ren pointed his sword at his throat. He never seen a real lightsaber up close. His nose was filled with the smell of ozone, and the heat was unbearable. He didn’t draw back. He was trying to make eye-contact with Ren through the mask.

“Speak,” Ren spat. Hux licked his lips.

“I’d like to stand first, if you don’t mind.”

“Stay right where you are.”

“You’re pointing a weapon at a captain of the First Order. You do realise it’s treason, don’t you?”

“Your offense is worse than treason.”

“You’ll extinguish your lightsaber by the count of three.”

Ren stepped back, but his lightsaber was still very much ignited. It was okay. Hux could work with it. He stood up, as gracefully as he could muster. His voice was raw and hoarse.

“Your identity is only logical, and if I was able to figure it out, others will do the same, believe me. You’re extremely cautious about revealing your face. Your profile is inaccessible. As I mentioned, you’re an exceptional pilot, and a Force-user; I assume the two facts are connected. We’re here on Dagobah, and why would anyone come here? I think you’re looking for your old master. I think you’re the lost son of General Solo and Organa. You’ve been reported missing by the New Republic, but according to the First Order’s files, you’ve been declared dead by them. Why would our data tell a different story? I’ve always wondered.”

“It’s forbidden-” Ren drew a deep breath, and started again; this time, his voice didn’t waver. “It is forbidden to speak that name, according to the orders of Supreme Leader Snoke.”

“Which makes your identity all the more obvious, if you ask me. They’re doing a piss poor job at hiding you. It’s not my fault that I’ve got a brain.”

“You can’t call me… that.”

“It’s not in my interest.”

Ren tilted his head, and turned off his lightsaber, almost as an afterthought. Hux didn’t let his relief show.

“I could erase your discovery from your memory.”  
  
“As I said, it’s not in my interest to reveal your precious little secret to anyone. I merely made a suggestion to guard your incognito better. I would deeply appreciate if you wouldn't threaten me with mind tricks. You must know by now how I feel about them.” He leaned closer, although Ren was still a good step away. “I’m warning you, _R_ en. I won’t stand for your games. You will learn to respect me, or face the consequences. Now we will go back to camp and join the others. Follow me.”

As he turned on his heels, he didn’t know what to expect. The chances of Ren cutting him in half or obeying him were roughly the same.

The odds turned out to be in his favor.

 

They returned to the _Vanguard_ after a long and fruitless mission, still smelling of the swamp; thirty-two standard hours wasted on finding nothing but a crumbling hut and a blanket.

However, there was an unexpected outcome.

Kylo Ren had fallen in love.

Either that, or he wanted to murder Hux.

He was following him around with the insistence of a stray beast haunting its prey. He was keeping his distance, but he pursued Hux, trailing behind him through the endless corridors. Hux had three shifts to complete in front of a panel, and Ren was just behind his station for the entire time. Hux refused to acknowledge him.

When he went to his quarters, Ren was still just a few steps behind. Hux let himself in with his cylinder, and looked behind his shoulder, eyebrows arched.

“Will you be joining me for a sanistream or would you rather let me know what’s going on?”

Ren draw back, shocked, like he wasn’t expecting Hux to speak with him ever again; then he said:

“Come with me to Sullust.”

“Why would I do that?”

Silence. Hux elaborated:

“As their captain, my place is with my stormtroopers. Between us, I have no idea why I was assigned to this mission; believe me, it’s not my usual sphere of action. I’ve done my duty. Have a good night and a safe journey, Ren. Your secret is safe with me. We might meet again, although I doubt it. It’s a huge galaxy.”

 

“You should be at Sullust!” General N. shouted through the blizzard. Hux saluted her, coat flapping and teeth chattering, and cried:

“I beg to differ, ma’am!”

 N. was very agitated.

“You’ve got an order, turn back!”

“May I inquire whose order are we talking about?”

“Lord Ren’s!”

“He’s not authorised to give orders!” 

They stared at each other. The deafening wind blew on.

“The wording was quite precise!”

“Lord Ren got this idea that he needs a captain on his expedition, but it does not mean…”

“No, he was asking for you! By name!”

Hux was shaking his head.

“He’s in no position to do that. I suggest sending Xakic. Ma’am.”

 N. considered it, lost in thought, then dismissed him with an impatent wave of her hand. 

 

Hux was convinced he did the right thing. His sentiment wasn’t changed by the fact that Xakic Hollinger returned from the mission in critical condition. His lungs had collapsed. His neck wasn’t bruised. Hux saw the medical droids carrying him through the main corridor, beeping in alarm, and he didn’t feel regret or compassion. 

There was the thrill of discovery, however: Ren wanted to kill him indeed. Hux revealed his secret identity, so he wanted him out of the way. Problem is, it didn’t make sense. Ren wouldn’t be so cunning and circumstantial about neutralizing him, he would just simply behead him or something. His next unofficial command ordered Hux to Serenno. He didn’t go, and this time around, he didn’t send a fill-in captain.

 

Hux was overseeing the trooper’s Logistics IV exam, swelling with pride, blaster at his hips. He believed that the military presence of officers on such occasions as this was essential, so the troopers didn’t think they were wasting their time with theoretical education. The ranks were standing around at parade rest, and the troopers simply didn’t dare disappoint them. Hux was effectively intimidating them into success.

His comm unit buzzed, but he ignored it. He had his full attention at his men, who looked more determined than afraid; a major difference between the methods of him and his father. His comm buzzed again, this time at emergency frequency. He glanced at Staff Sergeant Phasma and signalled her to take over.

He only opened the message once he was out of the hall.

**SystemFailure@SectorWB88//TROOPER_DOWN**

Hux arrived a-running, with just enough hurry which would make him look breathless, but not so much to be disheveled. The wounded trooper had been carried away, but horrors were still waiting in Sector WB88. The floor was slippery with blood, and the expensive panels were all ruined - red-hot cuts crossed them in a haphazard pattern. The air smelled of melting durasteel and ozone, of course.

Hux swallowed, and calmed his features.

“Lord Ren is on the planet, I presume?”

The private on duty saluted him.

“Yessir.”

“Did he send for me?”

“Not this time, sir.”

“Where can I find him?”

There was a slight pause.

“He was headed to the officer’s quarters, sir.”

Hux nodded, and got on his way. The private called after him:

“Sir? MT-2345 didn’t survive.”

 

Hux was strolling through the black corridors, lights swimming before his eyes. The door to Ren’s room was open, control-panel smashed. He let himself in.

Ren was sitting on the floor, cross-legged, the eye of the storm which must have swept through his bedroom. His huge hands were resting on his knees, shoulders tensing and relaxing as if he was running. Hux attempted to take a step towards him, but he couldn’t. Ren glanced over his shoulder.

He didn’t have the mask on.

His face was concealed by his hood; a flash of a striking profile, big nose, plush lips and a soft jawline.

“You’ll close your eyes.”

“I’m closing my eyes.”

“You’ll step forward now.”

“I’m stepping forward now.”

“Speak.”

Hux opened his mouth, but couldn’t find his voice, dizzy with a foreign sensation. It wouldn’t feel right to disturb the silence which was left behind Ren’s voice, his real voice with that curious intonation. Hux wetted his lips.

“I’ll need to ask for your credit ID.”

“That’s strange. Why do you need it?”

“Do you have any idea how much the training of a single stormtrooper costs? Do you have any idea how valuable was the equipment you’ve ruined?”

“You want to deduct it from my pay? That’s cute.” He sounded amused.

“It’s only fair."

“I don’t get paid.”

Hux straightened his back. His eyes were still closed.

“Is that so?”

“My needs are covered by the Order. And I don’t need much.”

“You’re telling me they’re giving you gift coupons?”

“Something like that.”

“I can still cut your fuel cost. You travel an awful lot.”

“Believe me, I don’t go sightseeing.”

By the sound of it, Ren had risen to his feet and stretched. Hux furrowed his brows. The darkness he was seeing was lined by the velvet of Ren’s voice.

“I can’t figure out why you are so insistent about me coming along with you. You have a dozen captains ready to comply, but don’t expect any volunteers after what you did to the late Hollinger.”

“I want you.”

“Your fixation is worrying.”

“You don’t need to worry.” Ren stepped closer. He smelled of the cold ventilation air of spaceships.

“I have the same reasons to worry as you do.”

“Are you threatening me, Hux?”

“Captain. I’m warning you. I won’t tolerate you sabotaging the First Order for your personal interests.” 

“And what are my personal interests?”

“Me, apparently. You wanted to see me. Why?”

 “I wanted to see you,” Ren said, slowly. He tilted Hux’s chin with his fingertips. He wasn’t wearing gloves. His thumbs ghosted over Hux’s cheekbones and fluttering eyelashes, following the dark, swelled circles of uneasy rest, and then he leaned in. He touched his lips to Hux’s, who opened his mouth for him, fed up by his gentle scrutiny. Ren licked into the heat, experimentally, and Hux huffed, taking the lead. He grabbed a fistful of Ren’s hair (which was definitely not regulation length) and pulled him in for a bruising kiss.

 “You idiot,” he groaned. “Must you be so trivial?”

 “Don’t make haste assumptions.” Ren gave him a final peck, and stepped back. “I want you to come with me to Naboo. I want you to volunteer. For now: leave me. I need to think.”

 

Hux returned to the exam hall. He didn’t look any different; if his lips were still tingling a bit, he was the only one to know it. His face was blank, expressions controlled.

He gave himself five minutes to find a logical explanation to Ren’s affections. No, that wasn’t the right word - attachment, rather. He noted that he himself was attracted to the man, even though he only had a faint recollection and some wild guesses of what he looked like. If having frenzied sex disguised as fraternization was the way to let the stress out of their system and work together more efficiently in the future, it was a welcomed solution indeed. However, he knew that Ren’s motivation had little to do with this line of thought, and it didn’t matter, anyway. The real question was what motivated _Ben_.

 

Ben Solo's early years were well-documented, and Hux had no problem accessing the files. He scrolled through the lost boy’s life while enjoying his evening cigarra. Ben had plenty of public appearances, usually hiding behind his mother’s skirt or cheering for his father at his races. He was a junior swooprace champion and a well-behaved student, apart from some petty offences. There were tattletale rumours which tried to portray him as a spoiled princeling, but the general opinion seemed to be that he was a good, boring kid. There was no official holo which would show him as an adult, only some sketches of a lanky adolescent. Hux was examining them with great care, and he was positive that they looked nothing like him.  

 

Ren was waiting for him in full attire the next morning. Hux was busy adjusting his gloves on his way to the cafeteria, and nodded to the man to join him. Ren tagged along, shoulders slouched.

“Have you given some thoughts to Naboo?”

“Good morning to you too, and indeed I did.”

“And? What do you say?”

“I don’t have enough information regarding the mission to make my decision.”

Ren huffed, which was distorted to a static crack by the vocoder.

“The Supreme Leader will tell us all the necessary information at 0600.”

Hux halted.

“The Supreme Leader wishes to see me and you didn’t notify me on time?”

“I’m notifying you now. You still have time for caf.”

“I need to reschedule my whole day,” Hux muttered.

“You love schedules.”

Hux frowned, and resumed walking.

“I never met him, not in person or through holo or in any way, really. You must understand that it’s a big moment for me and I would’ve appreciated…”

“0600 sharp,” Ren interrupted him, and made his exit, cloak billowing. Hux stared after him, and he couldn’t help but feel a bit neglected.

 

The boardroom which served as a holochamber was a secluded area, visited only by the Knights of Ren and the highest ranks. Hux dig his nails into his palms as he strolled through the cave with careful steps, while Ren tramped by his side with the elegance of an AT-AT.

They barely reached the holo area when the Supreme Leader flickered into existence, high on a throne. His presence filled the air, and Hux had to crane his neck to look at him. Truth be told, Hux preferred him to be a symbol, the fleshless embodiment of the First Order who’d praise him through mail.

The figure he saw before him was not fit to lead.

“I was delighted to hear that you’ve volunteered to accompany my apprentice on the mission, Captain Hux.”

He did not.

“I’m honored to be of your service,” he said.

“I appreciate your compliance; you shall be rewarded for it. Return to me with a report of success, and you’ll be promoted colonel.”

Hux’s breath hitched. Ren glanced at him. He was dizzy, heart racing, but his expression was calm and collected.

“I’m at your disposal.”

“I’ve been following your career with the utmost interest, Captain. This mission requires your imperturbability, your sense of duty and creative thinking. Your target is Senator Yvanos Tokani. His vote will decide whether the council of Theed will privately fund the fleet of the Resistance; he’s opposing the proposal. We need his assassination to be connected to the Resistance. Therefore, you shall be disguised as their followers. We got hold of a ship registered in their database. The _Tempest_ will be waiting for you at 0900 in hangar V07. Everything is taken care of. Should you need further information, ask my apprentice. You’re dismissed.”

 

The _Tempest_ was a profoundly impractical Theta-class T-2c shuttle, awkward and heavy, but equipped with autopilot and a class 1 hyperdrive. Still, it was cramped and uncomfortable, and the thick walls that lacked viewports made Hux feel trapped. He was hanging around in the cockpit where he could at least see hyperspace, but the idleness of lightgazing got on his nerves quickly. He retired to the small cabin he was supposed to share with Ren.

He was greeted by a rather absurd sight; Ren was sitting on the narrow bunk with legs carelessly spread, back to the wall. He was watching a holovid, still masked.

“Do you even see anything in that thing?”

“I wouldn’t need to, but I do.”

The blue holo-figure ignited his lightsaber. A little boy backed away from him. There were a couple of kids there, hiding behind the furniture of a round room.

“That’s your grandfather, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“Would you mind if I turned it off?”

“Not really.”

The lightsaber slashed through the air. Hux shut the record down.

“I want you to focus on our mission.”

“I was uhm, preparing for it.”

“You’ve done it before, haven’t you? You’ve killed sentients. Two at least.”

“There was more. So much more.”

Hux didn’t say anything. Ren hugged his chest, shoulders trembling slightly. Hux was observing him for a few seconds, then he announced:

“We’re landing in three. I suggest you get some rest.”

“Good idea.”

Hux nodded, and turned to the door.

“Don’t leave,” Ren said urgently.  

“If you’re doubting yourself, I can hardly help. I don’t know what your religion says about morality.”

“No, it’s not like that. I don’t want to talk.”

“Oh,” Hux remarked. He stepped closer.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’ve got a clear conscience?”

“I don’t think I know what you mean.”

“I mean it’s _clear_. That got my attention right away. Very uncommon. And the way your mind works; it’s very ordered and optimistic.”

Hux crossed his arms.

“I’m hardly optimistic.”

“You’re positive that everything will go according to plan, that everything’s gonna be fine,” Ren explained. “I think you’re the only being in this galaxy who actually believes that.”

“Because I _make_ everything fine,” he pointed out, and felt rather silly all of a sudden.

“Such confidence,” Ren remarked. “The instant it’s gone, you notice it. My mind is so unlike yours; it’s, uhm. It’s not a good place to reside in.”

“You said you didn’t want to talk.”

“But I must keep you entertained. You get bored incredibly fast. You like being busy, otherwise you feel useless. See? You’re a good topic. You’re intriguing. Just don’t ask questions. I’m not in the mood.”

“You’re an odd man, Ren.”  

“Oh, I’m terrible,” Ren chuckled. “But you have a good effect on me. Even though you think I’m insufferable.”

“Are you reading my mind?”

“I’m reading your face. Right now, you’re flushed and your pupils are dilated. Is it fear or arousal?”

“What do you think?”

“It’s both, I guess.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” Hux said, getting down on one knee on the bunk. He leant down, and licked the mask, just with the tip of his tongue, and so slowly.

Ren moaned. Hux gripped the mouthpiece, pushing Ren’s head back so he could bite down on his exposed throat, just above the larynx. The warm flesh was a shock to his lips, and he began sinking his teeth deeper, sucking the tender skin and lapping on it. He could taste something alcoholic, probably Ren’s aftershave.

There was a metallic squeak, as if the pipes were bending. Ren’s hands were in fists.

“I’m not afraid,” he repeated.

He pushed his knee forward, so it was near Ren’s forming bulge. He didn’t touch it. He could still feel the heat.

“You said you wanted to entertain me,” he breathed, and Ren made another keen sound which Hux couldn’t hear properly. He reached for the mask, but Ren grabbed his wrists. His grip was bruising.

“Don’t.”

“Why would you want-”

“I’ll take it off, but you can’t look at me then.”

Hux inclined his head, so he was eye-level with the helmet. He was so close his hot breath was fogging it up.

“I know it’s you hiding there, Ben.”

Ren pushed him back with the Force. Hux slammed to the floor, and he hit his head so hard he was sure his nape would crack open. He reached to check it, but he realised he couldn’t lift his hands. He wasn’t breathing properly, and Ren definitely wasn’t helping by straddling him and gripping his throat.

“Don’t you dare call me that,” he warned.

Hux responded by thrusting his hips up.

“Oh, but it’s making you hard,” he remarked. “So that’s what this is about? You want me to corrupt you? To debase you?”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

Ren tore off the helmet, and tossed it away. There was a surprisingly heavy thud. At first, all Hux could see was a wild mane of lustrous hair, which Ren pushed back from his face. And what a face it was: narrow, young, arresting, strangely appealing and all in all, utterly lovely.

It made Hux shut up.

Briefly.

“Lie on the bunk.”

“You’re in no position-” Ren grunted; his teeth were sharp and crooked.

“On the bunk.”

Ren got to his knees, and crawled on the bunk, looking offended. Hux followed, sitting to the edge in a much more dignified manner. He touched his hand to his nape. Blood sticked to his fingertips, just as he suspected it. He considered licking it off, then just smeared it on the sheets.

Ren was watching him, lying on his stomach. His eyes were hot with fury.

“If I’m making you uncomfortable, you’re welcome to send me away,” Hux said. “Just know that I won’t ever come back. I’ve got no patience for compromises now.”

“Skip the rhetorics and just fuck me already.”

Hux tskd.

“So eager.”

“You want this as well. So let’s do it. Please.”

Ren got on his hands and knees. It was more funny than inviting. He buried his face into the slim mattress, and let Hux pull up his robe. Hux ran his gloved hands over the curve of Ren’s ass, then spread his cheeks and pressed his clothed cock to his entrance. Ren whimpered.

“Did you bring condoms or slick?” Hux inquired.

“No, I uhh.”

“You didn’t, although you were expecting that it’d come to this.”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, Captain?”

“I take it you hoped I’d come prepared.”

Ren gulped.

“I will pull your pants down to your knees,” Hux told him. “I’ll jerk you off, and since we’ve got so much time on our hands, I guess I’ll finger you for a while as well. I won’t give you my cock, though. I won’t fuck you, because you’re misbehaved and unprepared, and you don’t deserve it. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Well then.”

Hux unbuckled Ren’s belt, who remarked:

“Your loss.”

“Hmm, how so?”

“I don’t quite see how you plan to come. You said nothing about touching yourself, oh, Captain.”

“There’s been a misunderstanding, Ren.” He pulled down the man’s leggings and briefs swiftly. “I don’t need this. You’ve been desperate for it.”

Ren let out a shuddering breath. Hux licked his gloved thumb, and reached back to get some blood on it.

“It won’t feel good at first.” 

Ren bit down on his arm. Hux was watching the back of his head, those pretty moles on his neck, and his ridiculous hair.

He pushed his thumb in while grabbing Ren’s cock. He was stunned for a moment. It was huge and heavy and already leaking. He started stroking it, up and up and _up_ and down.

Ren was panting, spine arched. He began to fuck himself on Hux’s hooked thumb.

“Have you done this before?”

“Not like this.”

“How, then?”

“I. I touch myself. Sometimes.”

“Show me.”

Ren sniffed, and laced his fingers with Hux’s on his cock. He set an amateurish rhythm, quick and violent. Hux could see that the tip of his big ears were flushed pink.

“Have you ever pictured me while masturbating?”

“Oh, yeah. Frequently.”

“Why?”

Ren grunted.

“You’re very handsome.”

“That’s all you need? Someone just needs to be handsome, and you can’t control yourself anymore?”

“No, I told you- Your mind- Ah. And your hair. It’s orange.”

“Orange,” Hux repeated.

“Uhh. Could we just not talk?”

“You don’t like my voice? I’m wounded.”

“I love your accent; I don’t like the things you’re saying. You’re mocking me. Always. And, uhh, you won’t even shout at me.”

“You want me to shout at you?”

“You’re really hot when you do that.” He clenched his ass. “You sure you don’t want to join the party? You’d feel so good, I know you would.”

“I’m still not convinced you deserve it. Sit up.”

“Wha’?”

“Sit on my lap. Legs spread. I can’t see what I’m doing.”

He wasn’t sure Ren would comply, that was partly the reason he asked; but the man settled just well, back pressed to Hux’s chest, thighs open, head lolling to Hux’s shoulders. The layers of his clothes were in the way, but Hux wanted them crumpled and ruined anyway.

He could feel Ren’s heavy breathing and the trembling of his limbs, and he could hear his satisfied little sighs. He was focusing his attention on that glorious dick. Every now and then Ren attempted to take over and just fuck into Hux’s fist, but he’d pull his hand away, so Ren gave it up after a while and let him do his thing, milking out pleasure leisurely. It must have been agonizing for him, Hux’s petty patience, slim fingers rubbing him in a steady pattern when he was used to quick completion.

No wonder Ren’s control was breaking. The Force was rolling off of him in waves, pushing the furnishings away and pulling them back, pulsing in sync with the movement of Hux’s hands. He craned his neck, eyes closed, and Hux could look at his face again, could watch the color high in his cheeks and his lips trembling.

Hux nibbled at his neck again, and whispered, breath wet on the abused skin:

“Come for me, Ben.”

Ren cried out, his semen spurting over Hux’s fist. He was gasping for air, astounded, mouth forming a pretty O.

“That’s a good boy. Wish you were always like that.” He lift his dripping fingers to Ren’s lips. “Clean it up.”

 

Ren was needed at the landing, which was the only part of flying one didn’t want to leave to the autopilot. Hux was glad to see that he didn’t sit down. Neither did he put the mask back on.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  Chapter 2 is coming soon with adventures on Naboo, Hux making a bad decision and Ren being Ren
> 
>   
> I'm so excited to share this story with you! Thank you so much for reading; any kind of feedback is appreciated ♥
> 
>   
> My beta readers were the amazing [gingercaf](http://gingercaf.tumblr.com/) & [kybercrvstals](http://kybercrvstals.tumblr.com/); I can't thank you enough  
> 
> 
>   
> Find me on tumblr: [longstoryshortikilledhim](http://longstoryshortikilledhim.tumblr.com/) // there's a [moodboard](http://longstoryshortikilledhim.tumblr.com/post/147898395651/psychom%E1%90%83chi%E1%90%83-youve-heard-of-crack-treated) for the chapter ✮
> 
> **2017 UPDATE:** once again, please note that this fic was basically my first Kylux work: the original Hungarian version was written between March and July, 2016, and then I translated my own work and uploaded it here, later adding some minor changes to reflect the canon updates.  
> 


	2. Chapter 2

Hux often flattered himself with the idea that he was a master of disguise. His usual look was so carefully constructed that the slightest change made him nearly unrecognisable. The task at hand still proved to be a challenge; he never had to look like a neo-rebel before, nor did he particularly wish to. 

First and foremost, he had to ruin his hairstyle. Without all the products, his hair was longish and fluffy, in the same windblown way pilots preferred to wear it. He hated it. He strapped a blaster to his thigh, put on a worn leather jacket, glanced into the mirror, despaired, and rejoined Ren in the cockpit.

“Oh,” he remarked. “Nice change, wearing black.”

“Shut up,” Ren grunted, leaning over the control panel. He looked like a hunter from the desert, a veil attached to his turban covering most of his face.

“Walk me through your plan, please.”

“Not many people know this, but blue is my favorite color, actually.”

There was a slight pause.

“We’re not on a team building exercise,” Hux said, slow and articulate. “We’ve got a mission. Since you’re the one to interrogate the asset and keep our cover up, I need to know how you plan to do it so I can neutralize him after you’re finished.”

“I’ll do it with the Force,” Ren shrugged, and pushed himself away from the panel. “Was having sex with me a team building exercise, Captain?”

“A handjob is a handjob, and a job is a job. Do try to be professional and segmentate your life.”

“You’re suggesting that I just forget about it? It’s been like half an hour. How can you-”

“I suggest,” Hux interrupted, “giving me a better answer than the Force, or stars help me, I’ll strangle you, and not in the fun way.”

 

Ren’s plan was really very bad; he left basically everything to chance, going on and on about how the blasted Force _will_ guide him. Hux began to understand why the Supreme Leader pressed that a sense of duty will be essential to this mission. He was supposed to take Ren’s lead, and sure, he was used to obeying unready leaders. But he didn’t quite grasp why Ren can’t just pull the trigger himself. Maybe using such a vulgar weapon was against the Knights’ code, pretentious wankers as they were.

They got to Theed on a speeder bike. Hux was driving, never minding the objections from Ren. Far below them, sunlight was dripping over the proud cupolas and solemn statues. Some kind of birds fluttered around the waterfalls, and the breeze which carried them was warm and sweet. Hux could certainly see the appeal of the planet, but couldn’t fathom why would anyone want to waste their days away here. The traffic was overrun by tourist transports and families of various species, and everything was so full, so loud and so shiny. He was blinking rapidly, eyesight unaccustomed to natural light.

“You should’ve taken the turn to the left,” Ren informed him, who had his slim hips in a deathgrip, literally breathing down his neck.

“You’re in charge of navigation, not me. You should’ve-”

“I never agreed to navigate you.”

Hux groaned. His ears felt clogged, his mouth was dry and his cheeks burned hot. He didn't need the additional headache.

“Will you tell me what’s the matter?” he asked.

“Oh, you’re interested?”

“I’d like you to tell me.”

“That wouldn’t be professional. You’ve missed another turn, by the way. And headed straight into a traffic jam. That’s a thirty minute delay.”

“I’ll push you off this speeder if you don’t make yourself useful.”

“I can’t for the life of me figure out what the _matter_ might be with you constantly threatening me.”

Hux glanced back behind his shoulder, and almost crashed into an air taxi. He hissed, and pulled the handle up swiftly, so they tumbled over the bewildered passengers, spinning around gracefully. There was a moment which seemed to be frozen in time and out of place, lavender skies under his feet and lush leafs above his head. Then he could feel his stomach drop as he got them back on track.

“You’re driving like a maniac,” Ren noted, bored. Hux sped up, mumbling something mildly offensive the passengers couldn’t hear.

 

By the time they got to Yvanos Tokani’s palace, they were out of breath, windworn, and half dead. Hux didn’t even need to make a conscious effort not to walk too stiffly, he just strode over the threshold with Ren lurking behind him. They were ridiculously out of their element, but the staff didn’t seem to notice, bypassing them in the vast marble hall without so much as a glance.

“Are you doing your Force-thing?” Hux asked.

“Careful, you might end up thanking me.”

“Are we invisible?”

“Of course we are, the Force can _so_ do that! All the old masters could become virtually unseen, that’s how they survived order 66-”

“I don’t appreciate this kind of humor.”

“Luke Skywalker just, _poof_ , disappeared, that’s why we can’t locate him. How did I not think of it before? So logical.” Ren pushed his hand forward, and the old-fashioned door leading to Tokani’s reception swung open. “After you, Captain.”

Hux turned to face him, and stepped closer. His voice was calm and cold.

“I need to know how we appear to our surroundings, so I can act accordingly. If it was up to me, I’d much rather shoot him from a distance, but seeing that we must make it look like an assassination, _help me make it look like an assassination_. Keep in mind that we need the personnel to remember seeing two Resistance-fighters entering. I have neither the time nor the patience for your mocking and sulking. I can see how you’re looking at me. I know what’s on your mind and what’s behind this.”

They were standing chest to chest, hunger and anger burning in the amber of Ren’s eyes as he grunted:

“Always a pleasure to meet a fellow mind-reader.”

“Will you answer my question?”

“The personnel can sort of see us, but will only remember faint impressions. They’ll associate us with the Resistance, but won’t recall my exact height or your rare haircolor.”

Hux leaned even closer. His breath was warm against the delicate veil over Ren’s lips.

“Thank you so much,” he sighed, and pulled back just when Ren’s eyes closed in anticipation.

 

As they entered the office, Ren was surrounded by crackling and menacing energy, which seemed to deepen the shadows in the corners. Hux could have calmed him so easily, but he was enjoying Ren's distress just a little too much. A better excuse was his observation that Ren needed to experience extreme emotions to operate to the best of his ability.

And as of now, he was furious.

And he was glorious.

Twilight was walking with him as he was approaching the Chagrian, who rose from behind his writing desk. Hux could sympathize with that look in his pale eyes, offence and surprise. He bowed his head, palm over his heart; he hated entering esteemed places without showing off his cultivated manners.

“Dear ambassador, I’m delighted to make your acquaintance.”

“Who are you?” Tokani demanded, black tongue flicking out in irritation. Ren raised his hand, and Tokani fell back to his cushioned chair, boneless.

“Tie him up.”

“What's the meaning of this?” Tokani gasped, and reached for a panel to sound the alarm; his clawed fingers froze mid-air. He attempted to yell for his secretary, but was choked off midway by a vague gesture of Ren.

Hux unbuckled his belt, testing its weight in his dry palms as he walked towards Tokani. He was placid and impassively pleased; the prospect of murder always made sense to him. It was simple and clean and, whenever he could help it, _slow_.

He knelt down besides Tokani, and gently forced his trembling hands behind the chair’s back, securing them with the belt. The Chagrian tried to claw at his restraints, to no avail.

Ren waved the desk away, which smashed into the nearest column with a loud thud. He stepped forward, arm up. Tokani's spine arched as he threw his head back, lips parted to a terrible scream which never came. There was a low, static sound, pulsing with the horrid familiarity of a stranger’s heartbeat.

“What are you doing to him?”

“Don't distract me,” Ren muttered, eyes squinting in warning.

“You know very well that you can't withhold any information from me. I won't stand for it.”

“I'm reading his mind. As most humans, I hate being disturbed when I'm reading.”

“What kind of information are you after?”

“Just don't talk. Please. It's loud in here.”

Hux frowned, and looked down at their prey. Tokani's eyes rolled into his skull, and his mouth was hanging open, saliva sliding down his chin. Hux could feel the chair shaking over and over again, in violent fits which travelled up to his elbows as he tried to hold it in place.

It got darker.

There were strange flashes of sound and smell, of dream-like impulses, no reason and no emotion. Hux knew these half-formed thoughts weren't his own.

“Ren?”

Ren's hand was trembling. Tokani was fighting him off, a stuck-up, stubborn mind, old and cruel, fleeting to a long ago childhood from Ren's pursuit, when he didn't knew the answer to anything Ren might ask him. He was chasing him from association to association, and Hux repeated: “ _Ren._ Just get his password out of him. His files will give us what we need.”

Tokani pushed himself forward, snarling, baring his teeth like he had any hope of sinking them into his assailant. Ren got closer and closer yet with struggling steps, until he could reach out and rest the tip of his fingers on Tokani's forehead. The ambassador whimpered.

“Kill him,” Ren asked, voice soft.

Hux got his blaster, put it against Tokani's clammy nape, and fired; his lips trembled in disgust when it was done. He let go of the chair, and Tokani fell over, face first. He wasn't bleeding. The stench of burnt flesh was overwhelming. Hux stepped over his body, crossing his legs as he walked away like a felinx, with the nonchalant elegance of predators.

Ren was swaying in place, staring at Tokani with glassy eyes. His fists were clenching and unclenching, which Hux took to be a nervous gesture until he looked closer. Ren was collecting something. Digging it up.

“Am I witnessing some kind of ritual?”

“It’s entirely practical. I'm rinsing the traces left by the Force.”

Hux fancied he could see something light up on Ren's palm, like a sun he was crushing in his fist. Envy flared up in Hux for a moment, unexplained, sudden. He blinked, and clearing his throat, asked: “did you get the password?”

“Yes. We gotta get out of here.”

“Obviously. Will your witchery no longer cover us?”

“Follow me,” Ren mumbled, walking towards the floor-lengths windows, robes swaying with the swing of his hips.  He was looking for an opening panel, and when he couldn't find one, he just sighed. With a wave of his hand, he tore the glass out of the frame without breaking it; then it just _hovered_ there, and Hux couldn't look away. He was sidestepping it, hoping that if he doesn't avert his glance, he can somehow help to keep it in the air. He got to the empty frame, and peered at Ren, then looked back at the levitating pane of glass.

It was all so wrong.

“What now?”

“Hug me,” Ren said, and before Hux could say anything to that, he pulled him closer.

Then he jumped.

Hux didn't have time to cry out. He could hear glass shattering, and they were freefalling, the world whooshing away. Hux clawed at Ren’s clothes, not panicked but enraged, and hooked his leg over his waist as waterfalls rumbled past, illogically afraid that Ren will just fly away and leave him to fall forever. It was still not over and still not over; he always imagined this kind of death to be aggressively abrupt, a snap of a finger and a snap of the neck.  He realised, eyes widening in surprise, that surely, they were going to die. For all he knew about Ren, he could be a suicidal maniac, it was certainly a tendency of his, narcissism notwithstanding.

They were slowing down, and Hux though, _this is it_ , he’s read about it, how life comes to a halt before it’s over forever, and he was just _bitter_ , no epiphany or remorse.

He landed on the bloody speeder, back hitting the leather seat. Worse still, Ren landed on him, knocking the wind out of his lungs.

“Damn you!” Hux hissed, and attempted to kick him off, into the abyss he was heading towards anyway, but Ren was still hugging him with one huge and heavy arm, trying to reach the controls with his left. The speeder swayed, and lurched towards the waterfall.

“Stop it!”

“You stop it!”

“You’re crushing my hands!”

“You’re still closer!”

“You can do magic!”

They hit the wall of water. Hux got two fingers on the handgrip, already half-drowned, and pushed himself up so Ren was hanging over in his lap like a very wet and oversized sea mouse from Alderaan.

“Where to?” he shouted over the deafening rumble.

“Out of the waterfall, for a start,” Ren yelled back, trying to find a solid grip. His hands slipped and he fell back to Hux’s lap, teeth hitting together. Hux got hold of his collar, keeping him in place. He glanced down at him once they were out of immediate danger.

“You git,” he managed.

 

Hux logged into Tokani’s profile with ease, lying on his stomach in a soothing bath. He had a towel wrapped around his hair, legs dangling in the steamy air. It was the kind of indulgence he wouldn’t and couldn’t allow himself normally, but there was some petty satisfaction in wasting the Republic’s resources as he scrolled through their secured files on his waterproof datapad.

The news on Yvanos Tokani’s assassination had already flared up the holonet, accompanied with live reports that he logged into classified files posthumus; the Resistance was mentioned, and the comment section was oozing accusations and fear, delightful words like ‘hacking’ and ‘terrorism’ all over the place.

Hux could witness the mild mayhem from among their midst. Ren and him had checked into a chic little hotel in town while waiting for further instructions. Hux had called dibs on the ‘fresher, leaving Ren with the order to try and get some rest. The last he saw him, Ren was lying on the bed in his soaked clothes, face buried into the silky pillows, emitting a low growl.

Hux turned off his datapad with the comfort of a job well done. He dressed himself methodically, humming under his breath. The tight pants were pleasantly warm from the dryer, although the flowery scent of the V-neck bothered him to a great extent. Wrinkling his nose, he tucked his unprofessional hair behind his ears. Caring so much for his civilian appearance was a weakness, easily exploited. He dismissed the thought that he was just trying to look nice for Ren.

He entered the living room, illuminated by nothing but the faint glow of dusk. He tiptoed, assuming that Ren must be sleeping, but he found the bed empty. However, there were small puddles showing his way toward the balcony, where he apparently undressed. Hux followed his trail and stepped over the heap of wet clothes, sneering, and the transparisteel door opened for him with a soft hiss.

Ren was leaning over the stone railing, gazing into the abyss of the evening. He was wearing a brocade robe, its train pooling on the ground. He turned to Hux, face concealed by a heavily embroidered hood. Hux stepped towards him, reminded of Padmé Naberrie for a moment. He put his hands on Ren’s strong shoulders, overcome with an irrational need to check whether it was really him. He could recognise those sad lips alright.

“Was this your plan?” he asked as his palms slid down to Ren’s biceps.

“What do you mean?”

“Knowing we’d end up in a hotel together with hours to waste. Packing the most expensive item of clothing you could get your hands on. Wanting me to see you like this.” Ren cast his eyes down; not shy, humiliated. Hux bend his knees, so he couldn’t avoid his gaze. Ren blinked, face flushed, as Hux went on, his grip tightening on Ren’s arm. “You wanted me close and high on adrenaline; you wanted to seduce me, and you never anticipated that I’d be ahead of you, hah? That by the time we got here, you’d be twisted around my fingers. Literally.”

“Your taunting has no effect on me,” Ren growled. “I’ve got more pressing matters than to figure out whether you’ll fuck me properly one of these days. Maybe I just enjoy wearing fine stuff. It’s not for you. It’s for me.”

Hux inclined his head, eyebrows arched. His grip tightened.

“Getting me to stroke your lonely cock was for you as well. You’re doing this for yourself, and I’m doing it for myself; our interests merely happen to overlap.”

“Don’t make it sound so-”

“What?”

“Basic,” Ren mumbled, turning away. Hux let go of him, remarking:

“If you’re looking for sweet talk and romance, I’m really not your man, I’m afraid.”

“But you are.” Ren looked up at the sky. “It’s very rare that I get attached. You should feel honored.”

Hux chuckled; a dry, soft sound. Ren was at him within a second, gripping his shoulders and slamming him into the railing. He shoved his thigh between his skinny legs and devoured his lips.  

It was sloppy and messy, so Hux pulled back after half a minute.

“If you’re trying to prove a point, I must tell you that your approach is all wrong. You need to learn how to kiss me properly, because so far, I’m not impressed, understand?”

“What an unimpressed hard-on you have,” Ren grunted, low voice resonating in Hux’s stomach as the man leaned in to continue where he left off. Hux slapped him.

“Are you listening?”

“I - Oww.”

Hux cracked his fingers. “I’m merely suggesting that you need to work on your method. Did it escape your attention that I’m giving you a chance here?”

“I don’t need your fucking pity,” Ren huffed.

“Pity would presuppose compassion. What you’re doing here is your choice, and your responsibility. I have my standards, however.”

“So you don’t mind my affection, after all.”

“I couldn’t care less,” Hux said, cupping his face. Ren leaned into his touch, rubbing his abused skin against Hux’s fingertips.

“You’re lying,” he breathed.

“And you’re lying to yourself. Now, pay attention. As far as I can tell, you should do in intimate situations what you do on the battlefield. You don’t need a strategy. You just need to unleash yourself. Your lips are too stiff. You should let them melt against me.”

He pressed his thumb against Ren’s plush lower lip, and pulled it down so he could see teeth glinting wetly in the dusk. He met Ren’s eyes, and slid two fingers into his mouth. Ren let out a surprised, obscene sound, and lapped at his digits like he was hungry for his touch.

“That’s it,” Hux whispered. “Just caress me with your tongue. Savour the warmth, the texture. Take your time. Then you can show me how it’s done.”

His sticky fingers slipped out to rest on Ren’s chin, and Hux leaned in, licking into the tight heat.

“Come on,” he said. “Indulge me.” He bit Ren’s lips, who moaned in turn; he sounded defeated. Hux nibbled on his full lips still, and let Ren pull him closer. He could feel huge, unsure hands roam over his back, and finally, Ren kissed him, hot and deep. He was a quick learner, but his pride was still hurt; he was trying too hard, but it was thrilling in its own way, how much he wanted to please Hux. He tasted sweet. Hux ran his hands up to Ren’s broad shoulders, gripping the luxurious robe. It was light against Ren’s feverish skin, like he was dressed in nothing but moonbeams. He was wrapped in it, a gift just for Hux, ready for the taking.

He could undress him, here, in front of the entire city. He could bend him over the railings. Ren would be so excited.

“We’re going in,” Hux said, stepping away. Ren reached for him, and managed to grab the sleeve of his leather jacket. He followed him, reluctantly, and when Hux pointed at the bed, he laid down, thighs spread, eager for his lessons to progress. Hux knelt over him, propping himself on his hands.

“How old are you?”

“Isn’t it a bit late for a question like this?”

“How old.”

“Five years younger than you.”

Hux frowned.

“That’s pretty young.”

“Young and pretty,” Ren corrected, “like yourself. We should take the opportunity.”

“Take this off,” Hux said, and smacked his hands when Ren reached for the robe’s belt. “Your hood.”

Ren glared at him, but obeyed. Hux sat back on Ren’s lap, and watched him, head tilted. He did look juvenile, but something else was much more prominent, a kind of battle-worn air around him, swallowing him up like mist and distorting his features. That’s what always happened to warriors and soldiers; they aged too soon and died at the wrong moments. Ren was somewhere between the boy who went to war and the man who never returned.

“Umm,” Ren said.

“Sush. Don’t speak. Don’t ruin it.”

“Ruin what? You’re not doing anything.” Ren lift his hips so Hux could feel his considerable bulge pressing against his arse.

“I won’t fuck you tonight, so don’t even try to rush me.”

“So what, you’ll wait till I’m thirty?”  

Hux let out a long sigh.

“We’re still on duty, and we had quite an eventful day. You’re exhausted, something a pilot should never be. We’ll have to return to base soon, and I don’t know about your schedule, but personally, I still have a full shift to complete.”

“So what are you suggesting?” Ren asked, propping himself up on his elbows. His hair was slightly ruffled, but still curling in perfect waves. It wasn’t fair.

“I suggest you stay still.” Hux sink his fingers into the luscious locks, and tugged. Ren let out a soft sound, allowing his hair to be swept back from his face. Hux traced his ridiculous ears with his fingertips, and then turned his attention to his jawline. Subtle stubble scratched his digits as he was caressing it half-heartedly, and Ren looked more confused than aroused.

“What are you doing exactly?”

“Memorizing your features so I can give a good description to the Resistance when I finally join them,” Hux deadpanned. “I want to see Leia Organa’s face when I tell her that I’m fucking her son.”

“You said you wouldn’t-”

“I said not tonight.”

“For future reference, please don’t talk about my mother when we’re in bed. Or ever.”

“Impossible. I like to talk about my inspirations, and she’s one of many. You may have noticed that she’s a strategical genius. Deadly on the field. Too bad she’ll never join the right party, but at least we can count on the Republic to ignore her talents.”

Ren looked at him with brows furrowed.

“I can’t tell when you’re joking. Not without the Force, anyway.”

“Do I joke often?”

“No.”

“Then you can believe me when I say that you should cherish your mother’s heritage.”

“She taught me nothing. I had to leave my home behind when I was still a child.”

Hux positioned himself in Ren’s lap, sitting back so he was more comfortable. Ren wasn’t hard anymore.

“How come?”

“Jedi tradition,” Ren said. “Han Solo wouldn’t let me join them, but mother insisted. Solo knew two Jedi: one dead, and one missing a hand.” He added, oddly proud: “he feared for me. He was worried sick I’d end up like them.”

“And look at you now.”

Ren beamed at him, and Hux realised it was the first time he saw him smiling, not smirking or grinning. It looked good on him, like he was supposed to do it all the time. Hux swallowed hard.

“I should’ve met your earlier, Captain Hux. You would’ve seduced me to the winning side right away, and I wouldn’t have wasted my time on a ruined planet with a half-crazed hermit and a dozen little jerks. I would’ve followed you to the end of the world.”

Hux kissed him to shut him up. Ren kissed back, soft and grateful; it was like Hux could taste his smile dripping from his lips.

 

The air was unusually stuffed abroad the _Triumph_. The promotion ceremony took place in the gym, which was the only room big enough to host the invited troops, officers and politicians. Hux half-wished his father was among them, but that’d require his father to be alive, so it was better this way.

There was an admirable attempt to make the gym look presentable: the durasteel walls were covered with the banners of the First Order, the occasional Imperial flag here and there with the symbols of the homeworlds of the soon-to-be-honored. The two-headed owl of Arkanis soared high on the ceiling. Hux fixed his gaze upon it as he took his vows with three hundred other officers.

He was wearing the colonels’ uniform, which was very, very blue. It would be foolish to mind it. It represented something far greater than common fashion sense. It crossed his mind that blue was Ren’s favourite color.

He spotted him in the crowd while the march was being played. He was the only one who didn’t salute General N. as she paraded to the stage. The helmet made it hard to tell whether he noticed Hux glancing at him. He probably did.

Hux tried his best not to get distracted by memories of Naboo, how pliant Ren was pinned underneath him as they kissed each other’s lips swollen and red until the damn comm buzzed. This was his moment; General N. was listing the promoted officers. It’d be the first time he heard someone call him Colonel Hux.

“Major Ahri Del Gilder, Colonel Jazlynn Hahg, Colonel Armitage Hux...”

Kriff. He always forgot about his damn first name. There was an undignified noise from the crowd, sounding like distorted laughter through a vocoder.  

Hux curled his gloved hands into fists. He had to be realistic. The sole reason for this early promotion was that he was the only one in the First Order who could control and tolerate Kylo Ren, apart from the Supreme Leader. A man of his talents was apparently needed to escort Ren and his temper on missions which mattered. He told himself that it was talent indeed, a sure sign of his leading skills. Also, it may or may not have something to do with the fact that Ren was lusting after him and seemed to enjoy his company in a masochistic way. He preferred not to think about this as an achievement.

Promotions didn’t mean anything, anyway. What mattered was what one could bring about with them; and Hux had his plans.

As soon as he was dismissed, Hux started to cordially make his way through the dispersing crowd. He was followed by the last fanfares of the parade, saluting back to the drastically increased number of people who had to greet him first. He managed to inch closer and closer to Ren, who was standing alone in the middle of the hubbub. The stormtroopers were clearly avoiding him, and even the officers kept a wary distance. Hux was only a few short meters away. He bit his lips and braced himself for anything Ren might have to say about his name.

“Armie!” someone yelled, and Hux stopped dead on his tracks. Lieutenant Joran Alen-Buckley pulled him into a tight embrace. “Colonel, eh? Looking sharp, love.”

“What are you doing here?” Hux asked, and reflexively dodged Joran’s attempt to ruffle his hair. “Someone fished you out?”

“Sod off. I must tell you everything. Heard you were working with the stormtrooper programme? You lucky bugger.”

“Luck had little to do with it.”

Ren was still waiting around, and Hux smiled at him, apologetic. Joran didn’t notice. They were the only skinny guys at the Academy. Hux learnt how to get back at the bullies; Joran learnt how to make friends. He was shorter than Hux, fair-haired, sporting a waxed moustache which was not present during their cadet years. The last Hux heard about him, he was bragging that he’d enlist to the navy, of all things. Judging by his uniform, he did manage to get paid for being useless and threatening on the sea.

“I must introduce you to Fidavar Vox, she’s my best friend, she’s brilliant, and first and foremost, I must get you drunk. Camba cider, was it, Colonel?”

“I’m more of a whisky man now, Lieutenant.” Hux let himself be dragged away, glancing back at Ren one last time. He felt nineteen again, nineteen, when he didn’t dare to dream that he’d be colonel so soon; when he had to stuff a very hungover Joran into the blanket box during room inspection - oh. Right. He forgot about Joran’s drinking habits. Shit.

 

They headed down to the officer’s lounge, and Joran was thrilled that they got admitted. Hux very rarely spent his free time in places like this. When he did, he mingled with important people, laughed at bad jokes and gathered carelessly dropped intel. He wasn’t enjoying it, and the thought that now he’d have to fake it made him slightly uneasy. At least he was good at it.

Joran and Fidavar found a little luminous table in the corner. The music was adequate, and the whisky was outright decent, smooth and smokey. Hux was sipping at it slowly, rolling it around his mouth, and Joran couldn’t stop giggling, insisting that Hux looked like he was in a commercial. 

Fidavar didn’t laugh much. She had freckled black skin, a monotone voice and elaborate manners. She was a civilian, a devotee to the Order, author of publicity pieces and speeches. She shared Kubaz cigarras with Hux, who got blissfully lightheaded, sitting cross-legged with his second glass at hand.

Fidavar exhaled the smoke through her nose, and Joran deflected it with his palm.

“Look, I’m using the Force!”

Hux was drunk enough to giggle. Joran winked at him.

“Can I ask you something, my entire Armie?”

“Shoot.”

“How did you lads get a Sith to work with you? There wasn’t a, I don’t know, a job opening, was there? ‘Sinister guy in a helmet needed’?”

“He’s not a Sith,” Hux corrected. “And he’s, um, a volunteer.”

“I’ve heard the most dreadful rumors. Heard he killed children. Dozens of them. All the padawans.”

“We’ve killed children as well,” Hux reminded him, and Fidavar suggested, sardonic:

“Happens to the best of us, right?”

“But there’s a difference,” Joran complained, punctuating his words with a wag of his finger. “Pressing a button, touching the trigger, issuing an order. Collateral damage, and all that. But what he did was slaughter, plain and simple. And he was quite young himself, wasn’t he? Fifteen, I hear. Terrible business. Doing something like that, it’s just ghastly.”

“Would you rather have the Jedi still around?”

“They weren’t even Jedi yet! He’s a freak, he, and the whole lot.” He grimaced. “Aren’t you afraid of him? How he lurked around you? You should be terrified, that’s what he’s for, after all. Like Vader. To scare the life out of everyone so they won’t even try to do something dumb.”

“Terror will always need an icon,” Fidavar mused as she helped herself to Joran’s brandy. “Only terror can create order, because the only thing binding us all together is fucking fear. We could build a bigass weapon, and a bigger one and one even bigger, and we wouldn’t get anywhere. The Force is different. It makes us all teary eyed little children, screaming for our parents. I think the Force is basically the unknown in our subconscious, and it’s only the unknown which makes us piss our pants.”

“I beg to differ,” Hux interrupted. “We tend to underestimate what we don’t know. But if you build an impossible weapon, and you prove that you can actually-”

“You’re working on something! I knew it,” Joran grinned. “Watch out, Fiddie, this bloody bast-- Armitage here is an excellent engineer. You should build a giant space Sith!”

“He’s not a Sith,” Hux snapped. He was startled at his own vehemence of protecting Ren. From what? _For_ what? He cleared his throat. He couldn’t meet Joran’s eyes. The man was staring at him like he had a question at the tip of his tongue, which he swallowed back eventually. He resumed his drunk babbling, while Hux propped up his head, rubbing his temple.

He was in deep shit.

 

The corridors didn’t make sense. Hux was sure of it. He was walking in a straight line, yet the walls kept sliding closer. It was like in the battle simulations, where suddenly there’s zero G and you still have to stand your ground. Also, the lights were loud.

He was heading towards Ren’s lodgings. He let his instincts lead him rather than logic, which in his hazed state proved to be quite thrilling. He wasn’t sure what would happen once he was there, once Ren opened the door.

He’d have to be sober. That’s feasible. He’ll get a pill from a droid, or let Ren cleanse his mind; for now, he was relishing the consequences of an irresponsible decision. The heat of the moment. It was burning him up, he was flushed from nose to chest. He had to see Ren. Such a dismissable impulse, any other time. At present, he could see his sober self fucking those powerful thighs, all slicked up, playing with Ren’s cock and whispering him filthy praise.

It’d be a night to remember. Real celebration, fucking up Ren’s celibacy, literally. It’d feel like an accomplishment. He’d leave his brand new uniform lying around on the ground.

A Knight crossed his path, but it wasn’t his Ren. This one was presumably either female or from a low-gravity planet; they walked with a certain weightless swagger, coat floating behind them.

“A word, please?”

The Knight stopped, turning their helmet towards Hux. They kept their distance, and their silence.

“I’m Colonel Hux, and I was wondering whether you could point me toward Ren’s room.”  He wasn’t sure they were listening. He straightened up, like a bird trying to look bigger, and added: “Ren will be very disappointed should you deny this information from me.”

The air filled with static. Hux hoped that the Knight wasn’t reading his mind, although as far as he could tell their telepathic connection was all thanks to Ren.

“I guess you mean Kylo Ren,” the Knight said, gender still undeterminable thanks to the vocoder.

“I mean Kylo, yes.” It felt wrong to say that name out loud. Names were so fragile.

“I can give him your message.”

“If I wanted you to give him a message, I’d have asked you just that. I must speak with him in person.”

“You can’t do that.”

“Can’t I?”

“He left.”

“Please do elaborate.”

The Knight shrugged. Their mystic syllabus certainly lacked a social skills module.

“He left in a hurry. That’s all I know.”

“Would you tell me if you knew more?”

“No.”

“Can I trust you to tell him that I was looking for him?”

“You can’t,” the Knight said, and raised their hand. “You want nothing from me.”

“I want nothing from you.”

“You won’t bother us.”

“I won’t bother you.”

“You won’t look for Kylo Ren.”

“I won’t look for Kylo Ren.”

“Now go, Colonel Nobody.”

 

Hux didn’t try to get in touch with Ren for a whole week, then his baffling reluctance began to fade away. Still, there wasn’t much he could do. First and foremost, he was very busy. He was working twelve hour shifts, which was completely insane but absolutely necessary. Although he no longer managed the stormtrooper programme personally, he was still supervising it. Also, he focused his attention to the Starkiller project, which didn’t have such a catchy name back then. They’d refer to the base as _The_ Weapon or simply Death Star III; Hux venomously opposed the latter, disclosing that the Death Star was merely an inspiration, and _The_ Weapon was utterly different.

No one believed him. They were polite enough not to show it.

Finding a captivating name was the least of his problems. Hyperspace tunneling was no fun. Mobilizing an entire planet was, well, challenging. The quintessence collectors were malfunctioning. Also, the thermal oscillator was a bitch. Hux’s engineering team believed that the planetary shield should be more than sufficient to protect it, but Hux had his silent doubts. He couldn’t veto the decision, but he was daydreaming about putting a mandalorian iron grille over it, light, retractile, which could prevent the Resistance from firing at the core, which seemed to be their favored strategical move.

He was physically unable to find the time to think about Ren too much, and these days, physics hated him. He vowed never to drink again (and broke his promise the next time a snowtrooper battalion was lost to a storm); he couldn’t remember much about the night after the promotion ceremony, and when he tried to think about it, his head ached like someone was clawing at his brain. He blamed the whiskey.

Still, thoughts about Ren were hard to banish, just as stubborn and insistent as the man himself. There were some desperate nights and mornings, and he developed a worrying tendency to get lost in memories and yearning while working, his stylo hovering above the blueprints while important seconds ticked away. More than once, Ami Vapasi chief engineer had to nudge him to get his attention back.  It couldn’t go on like this.

He couldn’t find his place on the base. Being planetbound unnerved him. Even the open land seemed claustrophobic. He hated the wildlife, the cold, the worthless trees, the stillness. When his shift ended, he’d put on a padded greatcoat and earwarmers, and let the wind guide him to a clearing where he could see stars among the fat clouds. He was homesick for space. He wanted to be on the move, traveling through the lightless vacuum and the brilliance of nebulas.

 

Ren found him on one of these evening walks. Northern lights illuminated the sky, an eerie veil dance of solar wind. The pines were moaning softly, and the biting breeze which twisted them played with the sleeves of Hux’s coat, flapping them around. He was enjoying the raw beauty, face upturned, strolling through the forest, and when Ren stepped out of the shadows, he wasn’t even baffled. 

“It’s really you,” Ren said, accusatory, helmet in place.

“Good evening, Ren. Walk with me.”

He didn’t wait around to see whether Ren would obey him. After a few steps, he could hear an angry inhale and then the heavy fall of feet. Ren kept his distance, holding the hilt of his lightsaber. The breeze followed them.

“How was your training?” Hux asked from behind his shoulders.

“Virtually no dueling, loads of theory and kriffing breathing exercises, the teacher is a-” He stopped himself. “Why you ask?”

“I haven’t seen you in a while. We’re having a conversation. If you’d rather stalk me silently, you’re free to do it.”

“Oh, so you _did_ notice my absence?”

“I won’t dignify that with a response.” Pause. “You seemed surprised to find me here. Couldn’t you sense me?”

“Of course I could. It just didn’t make sense, why you would wander so far away from the base.”

“Why would _you_?”

“I was practicing.”

“The wise keep to their quarters at night,” Hux remarked with a wry smile. “It’s freezing outside. Aren’t you cold?”

“I won’t chitchat about the damn weather.”

Hux glanced back again. Ren was kicking the snow, head hanging low. _I’ve missed this, whatever we have_ , Hux thought, but what he said was “you should put on warmer clothes next time you’re chopping trees with an ancient weapon; exercise makes it easier to catch a cold.”

Ren didn’t say anything to that. Hux wet his lips, and squinted at the lights above. The snow was crunching under their boots, and for a while, that was the only sound.

“I hadn’t had the opportunity to thank you for your help in getting me promoted.”

“You did have the opportunity, but you’d rather hang out with your twink buddy.”

Hux halted. Ren winced as he turned towards him. He counted to three, silently.

“This behavior won’t get you anywhere, not with me, Ren. I’m not interested in your petty and unjustified jealousy, and I find it absolutely unacceptable that you’d have the _cheek_ to tell me how should I spend my time and with whom.”

“So you didn’t regret it.”

“I didn’t know you’d be MIA.”

“Neither did I, but here we are.”

Hux huffed.

“At least you had a place to go to.”

“Had your decision been different if you knew we wouldn’t meet again for a while?”

“I’d have liked to say goodbye. Still, I haven’t seen Joran for ages, and I fancied a drink with friends. You can’t possibly blame me for that.”

“You don’t have friends.”

“That was low, Ren. I suggest you don’t waste my time with childish remarks and finding fault in my past actions.”

“You’re always like this,” Ren spat, the vocoder distorting it to static. Hux stepped closer.

“Still, you missed me.”

“I wish to know why.”

One more step.

“You’re still bitter that you couldn’t spend a single night with me.”

“I’m not _bitter_. I wanted to celebrate with you. I had champagne and condoms, but you’d rather get all touchy-feely nostalgic with a marine, _Armitage_.”

“You’re an idiot,” Hux told him as he leaned towards him, hands clasped behind his back. His breath fogged up the mask. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re an idiot?”

“I won’t take the helmet off, it’s freezing.”

“Suit yourself.” Hux stepped back with a satisfied smirk. Ren grasped his shoulder.

“And take it back.”

“You’re an idiot.”

Ren embraced him from behind. Hux flinched. Ren wouldn’t let him go. Wouldn’t let him go for quite long.

Hux was in no position to hug him back; pushing him off would be easier, but he didn’t want to do that, not really. Ren’s body heat was a welcome relief, and his broad frame shielded him from the wind.  It was a practical decision.

For a while, he’d just watch the northern lights in solemn silence, letting Ren get his revenge on poor straight Joran by setting a new record in the intergalactical Hux-hugging competition. His right arm was going numb, and he kinda needed to take a leak. He wriggled his toes in his boots to check whether they were frostbitten. Then squirmed a bit to check whether Ren was frozen.

It was a duel of wills. He wouldn’t be the first one to pull away. He could do this all night.

The wind strengthened. They were breathing together. His ears were ringing. His nose was burning. Eyes tearing up. He could offer his coat to Ren like a real gentleman, but he valued his life more than manners. It wasn’t about cuddling anyway. It was about winning.

He started counting stars. Solved equations in his head. Was actively despising Ren. Then he was glad that Ren was there. Then he got confused.

The helmet hissed. Ren probably used the Force to take it off, which was cheating. It fell to the ground with a heavy thud. Hux hoped it’d get soaked and muddy.

Ren’s lips touched his chilled skin just above the collar. Hux let out a shaky sigh. Ren’s tongue was painfully hot and soft. He bit down his neck, lapping and sucking on it so Hux would be sporting a very unprofessional bruise tomorrow. It shouldn’t have turned him on.

 _Fuck_ , he thought. _What have I gotten myself into_?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by the amazing [gingercaf ](http://gingercaf.tumblr.com/)  
>   
> Find me on tumblr: [longstoryshortikilledhim](http://longstoryshortikilledhim.tumblr.com/)  
> // aesthetically pleasing [moodboard](http://longstoryshortikilledhim.tumblr.com/post/148694601861/psychom%E1%90%83chi%E1%90%83-updated-i-shouldve-met) for the chapter  
> Thank you all for the support, it means the world to me ♥   
>   
> Chapter 3 is on the way with Hux getting beaten up and Ren finding it charming, handy DIY tips for lightsaber-building, and a trip to a very special planet. Also, they may or may not fuck each other's brains out. Finally.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See end notes for content warning

Hux murdered a punchbag in cold blood.

It was dawn. He didn’t get much sleep. Ren probably did. He was probably still snoozing somewhere, warm and cozy while Hux was sweating in the stormtroopers’ gym. Training amongst them was good for morale and bad for his mood.

One-on-one fighting was next. He got paired with FN-2187 who mumbled something inspiring to himself as Hux stepped into stance and raised his fist under his chin, ready to begin. The trooper’s anxiety was strange; Hux knew he didn’t look particularly threatening. He grew tall during one summer, and the effort seemed to burn all his muscles. Compared to his fellow cadets, he looked like a slender river between hulky hills. It didn’t matter that he worked harder than anyone else, doing cardio in the small hours, running till he threw up, lifting weights which dislocated his shoulders, he remained hopelessly lanky.

It would’ve helped if he could just keep his daily ratio down, but the mere concept of eating turned his stomach. Dining was a stressful event when he was little; he had to sit through the meals with back straight, not allowed to leave the table till all the adults were finished. His father would check his plate afterwards, made sure it was licked clean. Once he dared to leave his yoghurt untouched, so his father poured it over his hair in front of the entire crew.

It only got worse during his academy years. There was a food shortage, which showed in the quality of their meals which they were supposed to wolf down in ten minutes thrice a day, processed food and protein bars which had no distinct taste or smell whatsoever. In the First Order, they did a little better, and as an officer, he had to set an example, so he’d suffer through the meals quitely.

He never gained any weight. He looked miserable wearing the issued tank top and loose slacks, which all but bursted off FN-2187’s muscles. The first punch he failed to block bruised his pale skin immediately. It matched the hickey Ren gave him.

It was a small comfort that the more punches the trooper managed to land, the more terrified he got. He broke Hux’s nose, and Hux felt a sharp pang of pain and pride. He circled around the trooper, thick blood pouring down his chin, painting his teeth scarlet as he snarled at him. That was when FN-2187 threw up his arms, shouting:

“I yield, I yield!”

It was Hux’s recipe to survival: make them afraid to fight back. Especially if they are stronger.

 

Phasma was leaning against the wall of the medbay, watching the 2-1B reconstructing Hux’s nose.

“The kids miss you, sir,” she said. Hux winced as the droid plasted a bacta bandage on him.

“Is that so?”

Phasma smiled at him; a real smile, all teeth, not something Hux was used to.

“They say I’m more strict than you were, sir.”

Hux raised an eyebrow.

“Congratulations are in order, then. If I can be entirely honest with you, I miss the troopers too.”

“It’s always a pleasure to have you in the gym, sir. You’re tough and hard-working, an inspiration to us all. I thought I’d let you know.”

“Oh, believe me, I do know.”

 

Running high on adrenaline, Hux headed to Ren’s quarters. He had about an hour to waste before his shift would begin. He liked the idea of surprising him in gym gear, dogtags and combat boots and everything, all pent-up energy and barely anything to hide his skinny frame - and he’d still be able to drive Ren crazy. He’d coax him out of his darned helmet, bend him over the nearest surface, and give it to him rough and quick. He’d leave Ren crawling on his hands and knees, begging for more.

However, the most exciting and irritating thing about Ren was that it was easy to know what he would think or feel, and still impossible to tell what he’d do next, how he’d act on certain impulses. Hux enjoyed experimenting with him, and found some perverse joy watching all his predictions go south.

Case in point, Ren answered the door with a toothbrush buzzing in his mouth, wearing suspenders and a crop top. It was not something Hux expected. Could it be that Ren was wearing these under his robes _all along_? He just stood there, dumbfounded, as Ren squinted at him, the harsh lights hurting his tired eyes.

“Cmm nnn,” he said around the toothbrush, and stepped aside. He looked like he was sleepwalking. Hux let himself in, and looked around. Ren’s room was a mess. Hux found himself admiring the effort. Ren had hardly any belongings to accomplish this, but he still did a spectacular job in wrecking the place. It was littered with instafood wrappings and empty soda cans, heaps of dark clothing items scattered everywhere, the sheets a sad lump on the bed.  

“Sorry for the eyesore,” Ren mumbled. He stumbled his way through the chaos, raising his hand. An irritated gesture, and gravity seemed to escape the room. Hux flinched as the hovering items started to rearrange themselves.

“What happened to your cleaning droid?” he asked, sidestepping the levitating helmet. “Went on strike?”

Ren tiptoed to catch a glass, and spat in it. Grimacing, he let it continue it’s merry way towards the fresher.

“I broke it.”

“Why don’t you get a new one then?”

“I always break them.” Ren glanced at him, and did a double-take. “You sleep like this?”

“I train like this. Unlike some, I don’t have the luxury to sleep in.” He took in his surrounds again; the dimly lit room looked considerably better, the sheets fluttering one last time before they’d fall back gently on Ren’s bed.

“I’m just jetlagged,” Ren said. “Forgot my pills. Doesn’t matter, no one can tell when I’m sleeping behind the mask anyway.”

“You do that?”

“Absolutely not,” Ren winked. “Sit anywhere you can. To what do I owe the visit?”

The lone chair Ren had was occupied by his clothes, so Hux seated himself on the bed’s edge. His shoulders dropped.

“Initially,”  he confessed, lacing his fingers, “I came here to get laid.”

“Oh, you did?” Ren asked, and in an attempt to look casual, tilted his hips to the left. The hair toss was a little too much. “That can be arranged. Certainly. Yes.”

“The situation is not exactly how I’ve pictured it. It should’ve been spontaneous. That’s the benefit of office affairs. You don’t have to plan them. They just happen. With you, it’s different.”

“Well, what can I say, I’m different,” Ren said, and stepped closer. He knelt between Hux’s spread knees. Hux reached out to tuck a stray lock behind Ren’s big ear.

“It wasn’t a compliment.”

“I don’t care. You still like me. Just a bit? Yeah?”  

“You’re impossible,” Hux told him, searching his gaze.

“That’s a yes,” Ren purred, and kissed him. Hux couldn’t help himself, he hugged Ren closer at let him push him back against the mattress. He was warm and heavy and he smelled amazing, musky and spicy. He fumbled for Hux’s fly and cupped his erection through his briefs, watching how Hux got pliant under his touch, mouth opening to a soft little moan.

He’d kiss him again and again, just a touch of their lips as Hux began to grind against his palm. Ren twined his fingers around his length, tugging and pulling and stroking, breath wet on Hux’s chin.

“One of these days, I’ll get you off like this, Colonel.”

“It’s pronounced without the R,” Hux panted.

“You don’t have a say in it, your accent is silly,” Ren remarked as he sat back on his heels.

“It’s the Imperial accent, thank you very much, and since, in my case, it’s a post-Imperial rank- _wait_.” Hux grabbed Ren’s shoulders as he was attempting to wriggle the suspenders off. “Slowly. Let me.”

Ren nodded, and bit his lips when Hux slid his hands under the top, feeling Ren’s firm chest. Inspired, Hux stuffed the hem between Ren’s crooked teeth, who let out a surprised huff. Hux let his gaze roam over the exposed torso. Untouched territory with the nebulas of countless bruises, black stars of beauty marks, great expanses of half-healed wounds at Hux’s fingertips - and he let himself touch, following the mean muscle like he was learning how to read. Every mark spelt out Ren’s past, spoke of new discoveries.    

Hux pulled the top off him, tossed it away, and quite literally climbed him. The bed creaked under their combined weight. Hux rolled to his side, pulling Ren with him. The man unbuttoned his pants, and shoving them down, asked:

“What’s your preference?”

“Normally, I prefer bottoming, but your massive size compared with your inexperience makes me worried for my insides.”

“Hah. Another time, then.” He pecked on his lips, and whispered, “teach me how to make you feel real good. Once you deem me ready, I’ll rock your world, I promise.”

Hux looked at him through his eyelashes.

“What makes you think I’ll allow this to continue?”

“I can see the future.”

“You’re bluffing.”

“Am I, though?” He tugged at Hux’s slacks. “Just takes these off.”

“What, you can’t see my bare arse in your visions?”

“I need to touch you. Let’s take the tank top off, too.” Ren rolled over him, naked and gorgeous, and muttered, “come on, come on.”

“Impatient brat,” Hux remarked, but Ren was too occupied undressing him to take offense.

“Look at you, so pretty, these are the tiniest nipples I’ve ever seen, fuck, your skin is so smooth and pale, ah, you _are_ ginger down there, well hello-”

“I’ll gag you.”   

“Will you now?”

“If you continue talking, I _will_.”

Ren grimaced, slightly offended, and muttered:

“Communication is important.”

“Just shut up and lie back. Please. How do you feel about light bondage? Nod if you’re fine with it, no commentary is...”

“Been fantasizing about it,” Ren chimed in, nodding.

“...necessary.” Hux sighed, and began unwrapping the cotton bands from his hands. “Seeing that it’s your first time, I’ll let it slide, but you _must_ obey me if you want to keep it good and safe. _I_ know what I’m doing. Give me your hands.”

Ren watched him fastening his wrists to the backboard in solemn silence. Hux looked around for a pillow. When he reached for it, it levitated to his hand. Hux shivered, chilled. He tucked it under Ren’s hips.

“Will you summon lube and condoms as well, or-”

“It’s called telekinesis,” Ren corrected him.

“Will you telekinesis them, then?”

Something hit his nape. Hard. Hux glared at Ren, who pouted.

“I’m sorry, colonel without an R, my magic spells seem to be weakened. I should probably sacrifice a virgin, or something.”

“That’s exactly what we’re trying to accomplish here,” Hux said, and grabbed Ren's cock, pressing the heel of his palm against the shaft. Ren yelped. He was achingly hard, flushed an angry red, sticky precome smearing over Hux’s hand. He arched an eyebrow. “So arguing _does_ turn you on. That explains everything.”

“Having attractive men tying me up turns me on a _bit_ more, but think what you want.”

“Get tied up often?”

“Having you tying me up turns me on, Hux. It was your idea, so don’t fucking mock me.”

“You’ve managed to remember my rank twice today. Don’t stop now.” He put his finger against Ren’s entrance, nodded to himself, and got the lube. Ren was watching him, glowering.

“I’ll say it gladly if it reminds you who you owe your thanks.”

“Don’t be insolent. And don’t be so tense, either.”

“Any other fundamental characteristics I should just get rid off because they’re not to your liking?”

“I can’t open you up if you don’t relax. Look at me.” Ren met his gaze, still pouting. “You can be angry. I don’t care. But I need to know that you’ll cooperate. You need to stop me any time I do something which makes you uncomfortable. Understand?”

“Yessir,” Ren growled. Hux pushed a slick fingers in, and Ren’s hips bucked. He whimpered.  Hux cleared his throat.

“I was about to tell you that I’ll go easy on you, but seeing how sensitive you are… oh, Ren.” He added a second finger, spreading them. “What if I just take you apart, huh?”

 

That’s exactly what he did.

 

Ren was panting and moaning underneath him, kicking the mattress, overwhelmed by pleasure. It was flattering and everything, but otherwise, he didn’t contribute much, so Hux had to grab his hips and guide him, up and down, back and forth, rocking into him leisurely.  

Ren kept his eyes closed, so Hux could let his gaze wander unnoticed, taking in how Ren’s full lips parted, sweat glistening over his temples, and the expression of utter, blissful ecstasy softening his features.

He seemed to be at peace, like he found his rightful place in the galaxy pinned underneath Hux. Hux licked into his mouth, kissed his nose, his eyebrows, and then, with a long drag of his cock, he pulled out and bit down on his neck, rubbing their erections together.

Ren cried out, choked off, and his orgasm rushed through Hux’s veins - Ren was projecting it. A low throb, and they were both coming, Hux moaning as his teeth sank deeper into the trembling flesh, helplessly rutting his spent cock against Ren’s. Ren opened his eyes, and they just stared at each other, heaving, startled.  

 

Hux was the first to collect himself. He got up, and retrieved his clothes, dusting off his slacks as he asked:

“Can I use your ‘fresher?”

Ren was lying as Hux left him, untied, but still trembling, come all over his abdomen. He was looking at the ceiling, pupils blown.

“Hhhh,” he growled. Hux took that as a yes.

He tossed the condom into the trash on his way out. The refresher’s lights nearly blinded him as he stepped over the threshold. He put his clothes into the washer, set it to the quickest program possible, and stepped into the sonic shower, sweaty and sticky. He set his jaw as the vibrations cleansed him.

Once presentable, he put his clothes back on, dry and warm, and started looking for a comb. Ren only had hairbrushes, a wide variety of them, and a surprising amount of creams and lotions for a man who walked around with a bucket over his head; but he couldn’t allow himself to think about Ren.

He ran his fingers through his hair. The pomade still held; it was imperial quality, it’d hold two weeks after his death, but he needed the reassurance of the familiar motion. He got a pack of wet wipes, and went back to the bedroom, steps quiet. He knelt beside Ren, barely looking at him as he cleaned him up the best he could.

“I’m leaving,” he said.

Ren turned his head, and as Hux stood up, rolled over, hugging his knees to his chest.

 

Hux ordered himself not to freak out. So he had a spiritual experience in bed. So what. He _did_ fuck a warlock of some kind. It was to be, it should’ve been expected. He’s never had such an intense connection to anyone, but neither did Ren. They could talk this through like adults. Yes.

He put on his uniform, and met the engineers, looking through the _newest_ final blueprints and selecting the Absolutely Ultimate Design Drafts. They’ve been at it for three days. The thermal oscillator was still shit. They drained the caf dispenser. Vida Sarlin, the construction engineering supervisor was found sobbing into an empty cup, mumbling about the durasteel manufacturers of Sienar-Jaemus and long-dead deadlines.

Hux bent over the flimsiplast sheets, chewing on his stylo, and caught Ami Vapasi chief engineer watching him with a flushed face. He kept his composure. He refused to admit, even to himself, that he was still slightly distracted. Then his bloody comm buzzed. He sniffed, and focused on his calculations, double-checking the estimated speed of the absorbed star’s mess to establish the recoil velocity of the planet, taking the conserved momentum into account, which would be about - _buzz_.

“For crying out loud,” he mumbled, and discreetly ventured towards the windows to read the message in private.

_greetings_ **KR  
**_i want it again_ **KR**

Hux blinked.

_Beg your pardon?_ **COL A. Hux  
** _i want it again whenre you available_ **KR  
** _lunchbreak you must have a lunchbreak_ **KR  
**_please i want it_ **KR**

Hux glanced up at the mountains around, at the frozen world he couldn’t call his home, which he’ll make house his glory anyway.

_I am working for the future of our galaxy here. I advise you not to distract me._ **COL A. Hux  
** _Did you know that we could all fly off the base after firing if I miscalculate something?_ **COL A. Hux  
** _It could also turn into a black hole. A black hole, Ren._ **COL A. Hux  
** _only hole you need to be concerned w/ is mine_ **KR  
** _will let you work after_ **KR  
** _You disgust me._ **COL A. Hux  
**_lunchbreak quicky y/n?_ **KR**  

Hux sighed.

_Yes._ **COL A. Hux  
** _!!_ **KR  
** _Where?_ **COL A. Hux  
** _that closet w/ the trays? you know the one_ **KR  
** _Roger. 1300 sharp._ **COL A. Hux  
** _gr8 ive got some ideas_ **KR  
** _1300-1305_ **COL** **A. Hux  
**_oh._ **KR**  

He muted the comm, and wished the base would turn into a black hole then and there.

 

He told Ren he really only had roughly five minutes altogether, and fucked him from behind. Ren’s pants pooled around his ankles, and he pulled the mask off only after Hux was in to the hilt.

The clamor of the canteen blended with the sound of flesh on flesh. Ren was biting his hand to muffle his moans, and Hux knew he shouldn’t be so turned on by this. He could only see his nape and the arch of his back, and come on, it should’ve been enough for five minutes; Ren was slick and tight and hot around him, meeting the vicious thrust of his hips; what more did he need?

“Turn around.”

He pushed Ren against the wall. Lift up one of his thighs.

“It won’t work,” Ren told him.

“Just... It will. Hold on.”

“Like - _Ah_.”

“That’s it,” Hux panted, sliding into him, “that’s it.”  

“Stars,” Ren breathed, reaching down to touch himself. His glazed eyes fluttered shut, and Hux whispered into his ears:

“I hope this is what you wanted. Was this what you had in mind? You wanked off to the thought while I was working, didn’t you? Needy slut.”

“You made me like this,” Ren told him. “And I transformed you as well, just look at yourself.”

Hux slammed deeper and deeper, and Ren looked like a man possessed. He brushed his fingers against Hux’s temple.

“The Force binds us, Hux; you’ve given yourself to me, unbidden. I shall have you forever. Give me your loneliness. I can bear it. Give me your anger. Your pleasure. Let me in. I want to taste your fears.”

“Hah, is this some kind of spell?”

Ren grinned.

“The oldest of them all.”

“What did you do to me?”

“Oh, the things I _will_ do to you,” Ren purred, “Emperor.”

Hux came with a soundless shout.

 

They didn’t look at each other as they buttoned up. Hux flinched when Ren’s gloved hand ghosted over his waist.

“Don’t be so alarmed. You’re not bewitched.” He followed the line of Hux’s spine. “You just underestimate the power of people connecting this way.”

“This is just biology,” Hux said. “Everyone does it. It doesn’t _need_ to be _weird_.”

“Call it what you will,” Ren murmured, “it’s a rite. You had the same experience with your previous partners, you just didn’t pay attention. The Force flows-”

“The Force can flow the fuck off,” Hux interrupted. “All I wanted was a shag with someone who’s not under my command, and you can tell yourself whatever you want, it’s not the Force, it’s hormones.” He turned to face him, eyes cold. “You let me fuck you in a closet because you find me attractive, and that’s the end of it.”

Ren smirked, and put on the helmet. His breathless pants were distorted into white noise.

Hux was still looking at him.

“I find it horrifying but oddly charming,” Ren said, “that despite all your wit, you’re a whole new level of unimaginative. Also, you just _lack_ emotional intelligence, which I didn’t think was even possible.”

“You’re one to talk about intelligence, alright. There’s a perfectly logical scientific explanation to your abilities. No need to build a kriffing cult around it.”

Ren tilted his helmet.

“Is that so?”

“It’s a mutation, caused by parasites in the bloodstream, which allows certain individuals-”

“Oh, dear, are you referring to _midi-chlorians_?”

Hux stormed off.

 

He didn’t go out walking that night. He kept to his quarters, enjoying a pack of cigarras in his custom-made dressing gown with the First Order insignia embroidered over his heart. A vintage record by the Imperial Symphony Orchestra was blasting from the speakers, and he just relaxed, scrolling through the news on his datapad. He deserved to rest. It was a stressful shift.

The fall of xexto market couldn’t really engage his attention. Still, he was very much pissed when the door buzzed over the quintet, and he was forced to put the tedious article aside.

“Todo, let the guest in.”

The small droid came online, floating towards the entrance with a determined _yessir_. Hux crossed his legs, leaning back in the chair. He hoped that the visitor would barge in to report that the Resistance was raiding the base; otherwise the timing would be simply unforgivable.

Of course, it was just that manipulative son of a scum, hugging a backpack to his chest.

“Thrice a day?” Hux snarled. “I’m only human.”

“No,” Ren objected as the door closed behind him, “that’s not why I’m here.”

Todo tried to give way to him, but Ren still managed to bump into it. They started a strange dance, which gave Hux time to take a much needed drag of his cigarra.

“I’m all ears.”

“ _Stop it_ ,” Ren whined, and Todo dropped to the ground.

“You broke my droid.”

“I turned it off.”

“You owe me a new one.”

“It’s just turned off.”

“It was a perfectly nice droid. Will be dearly missed.”

“It’s gonna be okay,” Ren shrugged, and dropped the backpack on Hux’s control panel. He pulled off his helmet, and looked around. Hux decorated the low walls with tastefully minimalistic black and white drawings, the only patch of color being the banner of the First Order above his bed. His trophies, devices and belongings were resting on shelves, perfectly organised. His uniforms were waiting for him on a clothes rack, pressed, ironed, the buckles polished.

Hux hated it all.

He didn’t have a window.

“Did you draw these?”

“No, I composed them as musical pieces and they somehow got on flimsi. What are you _doing_ here?”

Ren was eyeing a sketch of an AT-AT, hands behind his back.  

“Bold lines. I like them. You’re really talented. I thought we could sleep together. No?”

“I’m still mad at you, what made you think I’d want to curl up with you? Ever?”

Ren glanced at him over his shoulder, bashful, all of a sudden.

“I was hoping you’d make up for the morning,” he noted, and Hux snorted, turning his back to him as he unlocked the datapad.

“Give me a break.”

“Don’t you feel alone at night?”

“As a matter of fact, I do,” Hux said. “It’s a welcome change after spending my days surrounded by an army, and having been sharing bunkers with five other students.”

“That’s exactly why you’re so uncomfortable being on your own,” Ren purred. “You’re not used to it. You need distraction. You need sleeping pills.”

Hux rolled his eyes. Ren approached him, and leant over his shoulder to peek at the datapad.

“What are you reading?”

“For star’s sake, Ren, what do you want from me?”

Ren looked at him. He was too close, his gaze flicking over his features.

“Everything,” he said. “I want everything and anything you can give.”

Hux huffed, turning back to the datapad, eyes downcast.

“Be my guest. I’m retiring in fifteen, and won’t be disturbed. Should you need something, kindly resurrect Todo from the dead.”

“I need to use your ‘fresher, I’ve destroyed the gym,” Ren announced, kissing him on the cheek, ignoring the offended scowl.

“You’ve destroyed the gym?”

“Haha. Figuratively.” He started shredding his clothes on his way out, the hilt of his lightsaber hitting the floor with a heavy thud as he dropped his belt.

Hux could hear that thud in his head quite a while after Ren disappeared into the refresher.

He smoked the rest of his cigarra.

 

He finished reading the intergalactical news, and dived into sport scores. He didn’t particularly care about them, but recognised their massive impact on society. He should probably catch a rerun on shockbox; some Caamasi brute challenged Trinna Filtayn, and the comment section was quite heated. His coworkers will probably won’t shut up about it, and a few educated remarks would help maintaining their respect.

He set his alarm, then powered off the datapad. He put on a pair of regulation briefs and the first shirt he found. It said “I’VE SURVIVED THE VOR-CAL SAFARI” in bright letters, which made Hux question his life choices, but he put it on anyway. He should play casual.

He ruffled his hair as he headed to bed, and nearly tripped over the lightsaber. Cursing, he scrouched down for it. It was surprisingly heavy. How could Ren keep it in balance? He stretched his arm out, testing the weight.

His father included a Jedi in one of the battle simulations. He would boast that nobody could beat the program, that everybody tried to shoot the knight. Hux began by throwing himself on the ground, tumbling away from the searing heat of the blade; he then kicked the legs off from underneath the Jedi projection, and as it hit the floor, Hux gouged its eyes out. He could still remember the sound. He could still remember prying the weapon from its twitching hand with goo-slick fingers.

He ignited Ren’s lightsaber.  

The refresher door hissed open in that instant, and Ren yelled:

“Put it down, it’s extremely dangerous!”

The hilt hummed in Hux’s hand, spitting out sparkling plasma. Ren was running towards him, a towel around his hips, and pulled it out of his hand.

“What were you thinking?” he chided him.

“I’m working on the most dangerous weapon the galaxy has ever seen,” Hux said. “A lightsaber is hardly-”

“It’s unstable, it could blow in your face any moment.”

“Oh. Well, if you put it like that.”

Ren shook his head, and extinguished it.

“The crystal is cracked. That’s why I made these.” Ren indicated the lateral vents. “It diverts the energy.”

“I can see that, but why are you running around with a weapon which is a danger to your own safety?”

“ _I_ know how to control it.”

“So it’s like, a test. A challenge.”

“Partly. Yes.”

“Could you fix it?”

“Save your criticism. I was fifteen.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Right. You never said a bad word to me,” Ren frowned, and walked over to Hux’s desk, settling the lightsaber on it. “I was in a hurry, okay? In a normal case scenario, we would have days to meditate over the crystal, but I didn’t have the time. I hit it with too much energy. So I cracked it.” He poked the hilt, which rolled over. “My previous lightsaber was according to standard regulations; the one before that as well. I _know_ how to make them. Not just swords and sabres; anything. I’ve taught the Knights myself. You’re not the only one who can invent stuff.”

“I told you, you misunderstood. I find this design more practical than the traditional one.”

“Do you now?”

“Absolutely.”

Ren glanced at him. He was hunched over, hair falling over his face.

“You like it?”

“I do. It’s beautiful.”

Ren didn’t say anything to that. He stroked Hux’s abandoned dressing gown hanging from the chair. After brief consideration, he put it on. Hux’s lips trembled, but he didn’t scold him. Ren looked pretty good in it, actually.

“I’ve got a theoretical question for you.”

“Uh-huh?”

“Could attuned Kyber crystals be used to, let’s say, build a cannon? I’m not talking about a small-scale superlaser, may Tarkin rest in peace, but actual Kyber-powered cannons.”  
  
Ren’s eyes widened.

“You want me to help you design a… what, _lightcannon_?”

“Six,” Hux said, clearing his throat. “I want about six of them around the darned thermal oscillator.”

Ren licked his lips.

“Why. It’s your lucky day.”

“My lucky we-will-establish-a-date, please. I might not seem like it, but I’m so tired I could scream.”

 

It was a catastrophic idea.

More precisely, the idea was pretty solid, but entrusting Ren with its execution was a mistake.

Ren didn’t give a flying damn about Hux’s busy schedule. Construction was just about to begin, and Hux found himself on a bloody TIE-fighter, the most unsuitable vehicle to bring them to the far end of the Ilum system. Furthermore, Hux was pretty sure that Ren didn’t ask for permission to leave the base overnight. He was with him. He’d know. They were, well. Spooning. And grinding. A bit. Ren was so hard, and so enthusiastic, babbling about how perfect Hux’s bitty buttocks felt against his dick, and Hux had to remind him that he’d have to wake early so there was no kriffing way he’d let Ren “eat his ass like a piece of cake,” whatever that meant. He was pretty sure that dragging him out of bed and into the hangar to fly off to the great beyond was just petty revenge.

At least, he could get some actual sleep. He felt relaxed, and he had to admit, albeit reluctantly, that it was probably thanks to Ren. The man did put his palm over Hux’s forehead when he wouldn’t stop tossing and wriggling; Hux remembered a clear glow washing over him and the perplexing sorrow in Ren’s eyes before he’d drift into dreams.

 

Ilum welcomed them with a friendly blizzard. Ren didn’t warn him about the weather beforehand, but at least he got him a fur coat of sorts, huge and heavy but a bit too fluffy. He put on a padded cloak with a huge scarf and a lined hood, abandoning the mask for aesthetics’ sake. His lovely nose was red and dripping within a minute. Hux thought he deserved it.

Ren was dashing through the storm, and Hux followed his path, hoping his boots wouldn’t soak through. The ice seemed to be a brilliant blue as the double moonlight pierced through the clouds. They were walking over a glacier, and Hux felt like they were mere bugs on the back of an ancient being, which would wake any minute and crush them under its thumb.

They reached a wall of ice, enormous beyond comprehension. The air filled with a low hum which Hux came to associate with the Force. Columns crashed through the wall, and a door creaked open, casting dim light over them. Ren was walking like he was going upwind; Hux marched with ease.

_I’m not superstitious,_ he told himself. _I won’t be intimidated. All your wisdom and all your magic was worthless. You’re all long dead, but I’m a survivor, I’m a survivor, I-_

“Please survive quietly,” Ren asked through gritted teeth.

“I don’t like this place.”

“The place doesn’t like us either. You could go back to the fighter, and wait for me there. It’d be safer.”

“Out of the question. And I told you not you read my mind.”

“It’s not _me_. The Force flows through this place; anything your consciousness whispers echoes through its caves. Can’t you feel the Light warming your skin?”  
  
“I feel nothing but a headache coming,” Hux muttered, and Ren rolled his eyes, but he seemed strangely relieved. He leapt to the temple’s stairs, and offered his hand to Hux. He just walked past him, mumbling “let’s get on with it.”

 

Entering, the silence was stifling, and every drop of an icicle sounded like whispered words. Giant statues of cloaked figures stood around them, raising their stone sabres. Hux held his breath. Ren led him past a row of obelisks, to the mouth of a cave. He rolled the giant piece of rock masquerading as a door away with the Force.

“Io, I’ve returned as a man,” he announced on a ceremonial tone. Hux couldn’t figure out whether he was referring to his age or his lost virginity.

“Restrain yourself, Colonel,” Ren asked. “It’s a big moment for me.”

Hux raised his eyebrows.

“I’m sorry, do you find my thoughts disrespectful?”

“Are you _seriously_ picturing fucking me on the altar right now?”

“What does it look like?”

“You’re unbelievable,” Ren huffed, then squinted at him. “Would you do it? You know. Theoretically.”  

Hux sighed, and stepped on the path leading down the cave.

“For stars’ sake, Ren. If you’re so keen to desecrate a Jedi temple, why do you worry so much about being seduced back to the Light?”

“What makes you think I _ever_ worry about that?”

Hux shrugged. It got darker with every step. Ren was following him around like Hux was the one knowing the way.

“You’ve betrayed them. Traitors always worry that they’d return back to the same place some day, becoming the same man they buried so deep.”

Ren cleared his throat, which reverberated through the deepening shadows.

“So you think I’ve got nothing to fear?”

“What does everybody want, Ren? Every creature.”

“To be deemed...worthy?”

“Interesting. Why do we need that?”

“There’s a deep spiritual need for validation within everybody, in my experience. I don’t know. It’s just there. Sometimes in the form of absence.”

“Why does validation feels so good that we all crave it?”

“It just feels very good. I don’t know.”

Hux tsked.

“Everybody wants to be _happy_ , Ren. Recognition makes us happy. So does power or sex. Were you happy in the Light?”

“I wasn’t.”

“There. You’ve got nothing to fear, then.”  
  
Darkness closed on around them. Hux halted; he could no longer watch his steps. Ren touched his elbows, and he turned to face him without seeing anything. He could feel his breath on his lips, hot and sweet. Hux leaned in, shutting his eyes instinctively. Ren opened his mouth for him, hugging him close. Hux cupped his face, and let him caress his back, sliding his palm under the coat and under the jacket, leather against skin. Ren grabbed a handful of his ass, and Hux pulled back.

“Sorry, no way I’m pulling off my trousers, it’s freezing.” He opened his eyes. Sparkles were flickering around them, and he let out a dry chuckle. “Whoa. Are you doing this?”

“Yeah.”

“Very romantic.”

“Shut up. They’ll show the way.” Ren laced their fingers, and pulled Hux after him. He held on, swallowing around a lump in his throat.

 

He lost all sense of time. They could be walking for ten minutes or ten hours, for all he knew. The path would diverge every now and then, leading them deeper and deeper still. Hux could see more and more crystals frozen to the walls, but Ren didn’t even glance at them. The ground was slippery, and Hux was grasping Ren’s fingers with too much force, soldiering on, feeling the cold in his bones.

The path led to a pit. There was no way around it, and Hux sucked his teeth.

“Typical. Just our luck.”

“Just our way,” Ren corrected. “Hold on.”

“We could fit the fighter in this hellhole,” Hux noted as he wrapped his hands around Ren’s shoulders. “What now? You won’t jump into it, will you?”

“I will jump _over_ it,” Ren said, and before Hux could tell him that that sounded impossible, he did just that. His hair was floating around his face, and they landed softly, like falling leaves.

“I’ve _had_ it with the Force,” Hux announced, but Ren wasn’t paying attention. Hux followed his gaze. A crystal dimly reflected the sparks flying around them; it just laid there on the ground, forgotten, like it slipped out of someone’s pocket a long time ago. Ren crouched down, and reached for it.

“NO!” someone screamed, and Hux spinned, grabbing his blaster. A little girl was standing over the pit, around five, maybe, and she was screaming, “come back!”

" _Ben, you must know that Darkness will be within you always; and it’ll look like the easy way to everything you desire, but you must never forget that…”_

“ _If you’re not with me, then you’re my enemy_ .”

Ren was kneeling in front of himself. He must’ve been fifteen, brown hood over his wild hair, and he was grinning as he reached for the crystal with greedy little fingers. A familiar voice said:

“ _It’s in your blood, Kylo. This is your heritage_.”

And a young boy, sobbing:

_“It’s purple again.”_

_“There’s no conclusive evidence as for what the colors represent. Many great Jedi wielded purple sabers; think of Revan or Mace Windu-”_

_“The other padawans are calling me a Sith.”_

_“The unkindness of others doesn’t define you. You didn’t break your previous lightsaber on purpose, did you?”_

_“Of course not!”_

_“I can tell when you’re lying to me, Ben, and it breaks my heart every time.”_

_“I’m so sorry, Master Luke, I-”_ He started crying in earnest. _“Maybe they’re right. Maybe I’m wicked.”_

_“When you grow up, I’ll tell you the story of your grandfather, a good man with a beautiful, blue lightsaber, who started lying to the ones who loved him, and it got him into trouble.”_

_“Can’t you tell it now?”_

_“I can’t, little one. You wouldn’t understand.”_

“SITH-SPAWN! SITH-SPAWN! SITH-SPAWN!”

Young Ben was standing in a crumbling temple, screaming from the top of his lungs.

“ _Why did no one tell me!? Why didn’t you tell me_?”

Dead bodies were at his feet. The familiar voice sounded again:

“ _Child, you always knew the truth_.”

The Ren from the past and the Ren from the present reached for the crystal at the same time.

“ _You’d have bad dreams_.”

And a heart wrenching shriek:

“NO!”

Then, ringing silence. The crystal was floating above Ren’s palm, the illusions dissolving into mist. Hux realised he still had his blaster in his hand; he adjusted his grip on it, the weight of the weapon anchoring him to the present. He approached Ren, fearing that he might disappear like the rest of them.

The crystal pulsed, casting blue light over Ren’s face; it pulsed again, and it was purple; and with its last heartbeat, it bled into red. Hux lay his hand on Ren’s trembling shoulder, who leaned into his touch, nuzzling against his knuckles.

“Are you alright?”

“Never better. You wanted six, yeah?”

 

Hux made him stop at four. He told him they’d have to build a prototype first anyway and could come back later to get the rest, but truth be told, he was worried. By the time they got back to the TIE-fighter, Ren was burning up. A feverish flush spread over his cheekbones, his lips were trembling and his eyes were blazing.

Hux tucked the crystals into his pocket so he could help Ren into the seat. They looked surprisingly mundane, and Hux couldn’t wait for Ren to meditate them into deadly energy, but before any of that, Ren needed a hot cup of tea and some sound sleep.

“Why am I not piloting?”

“Because I won’t let you,” Hux told him. “We do have an autopilot, don’t we?”

“Yeah, but that’s a piece of-”

“Hush.” He shrugged off his coat to put it over Ren, who let his head loll on the soft fur.

“Thank you for putting up with me,” he said, hoarse. “I don’t think I would’ve managed without you.”

“Don’t get all sentimental on me,” Hux warned him. “We both know I was just accompanying you. You did all the work.”  

“You don’t understand. I need you. I need you by my side. Will you stay?”

Hux kissed him on the forehead to calm him.

“Hang in there. I’ll need you, too, so pull it together, please. For me.”

 

Finally, they were on the same page. The autopilot tried to kill them, and they both wanted to die. When they got to the runway on base, none of them could stand straight. A smaller delegation was waiting for them, a sad corporal and all the knights standing in a respectful distance. Hux tried not to throw up all over the glistening snow in front of them. Ren managed to put on the helmet before they’d land, and his breathing sounded ragged and wet through the vocoder. Hux hooked his arm under his.

“Notify the medbay that Lord Ren must be admitted urgently,” he told the corporal, who still stood at attention.

“Sir? The Supreme Leader made contact…”

“Can’t it wait?” Hux asked, but Ren halted, tilting the helmet. They were only a few meters away from the nearest hangar, and Hux believed that once they reached it, they’d be safe.

“Speak,” Ren ordered, and the corporal bowed his head.

“Lord Ren must return to the Supreme Leader immediately. The shuttle is waiting.”

Ren reached out, and pulled the corporal closer - presumably, by his throat.

“How long am l to stay?” he panted.  
  
“Sir…”

“He must’ve mentioned it.”  
  
“A year, sir,” the corporal said, and then his neck snapped. His lifeless body fell to the ground. 

“Ren,” Hux hissed. Ren pushed him aside, and turned around. His fellow knights just stood around as the TIE-fighter lifted up in the air, then Ren shouted, and tore it to shreds, hands clawing at nothing. Piece by piece, it was crumbling apart, the sharp smell of fuel clogging Hux’s nose.

He took a few steps back as the wreck caught on fire. Ren ignited his lightsaber, and slashed at anything he could reach while screaming wordless curses. Hux was observing this parade of pointless destruction like he was watching a holovid. Ren’s all-consuming fury was in such a sharp contrast with the resignated emptiness in his chest that he couldn’t interpret these as a part of the same reality.  

When there was nothing left to smash, Ren targeted the corpse. He kicked it. It rolled over its back. Ren raised his weapon. Hux said, voice flat:

“Look at me, Ren.”

Ren turned towards him, chest heaving.

“Don’t you _dare_ ,” Hux mouthed.

Ren tossed the lightsaber aside, and it fell into a heap of snow, sizzling and sparkling. Ren cried:

“Didn’t you hear what he said!?”

“He said you’ve got an order.”

They walked up to each other, hands in fists.

“ _You must come with me_ ,” Ren said; Hux didn’t notice he could only hear him in his head. He slapped him in front of the other knights, slapped the helmet so hard he might’ve cracked a few fingers.

It was worth it.

The air crackled as the knights raised their hands to attack; Ren warned them off with a wave, and faced Hux. He could only see his own reflection on the mask. He looked sick.

“The next time you raise a hand on someone under my command, the next time you damage our equipment, I’ll break your hand.”

Ren flinched.

“Don’t let it be our goodbye. Please.”

“It will be our farewell if you don’t learn to follow orders. Go to your Supreme Leader _now_.”

“I can’t leave you. You wanted me to…”

_“_ I want you to go. You’re being pathetic. Leave.” He saluted him. Ren didn’t return it as he turned on his heels. Hux counted to three, and dropped his hand. Pain flickered through his busted fingers. If sharp tears swelled up in his eyes, it was thanks to the pain and the cold wind.

Ren looked back over his shoulder. Hux bit his lips.

“ _I’ll miss you, Kylo,_ ” he thought. “ _Come back to me stronger, wiser, or never come back_.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, Hux, way to give mixed signals. 
> 
>  
> 
> **content warning: brief discussion of Hux’s eating disorder and childhood traumas on the first page**
> 
>  
> 
> Beta'd by my hero, [gingercaf](http://gingercaf.tumblr.com/) & a special shoutout is in order for Nuska for cheering me on (she's running an amazing Kylux blog which got me shipping the ship, [check it out](http://kyloren-generalhux-trash.tumblr.com) )
> 
> Find me on tumblr: [longstoryshortikilledhim](http://longstoryshortikilledhim.tumblr.com/) // to-the-point [moodboard](http://longstoryshortikilledhim.tumblr.com/post/148994441056/psychom%E1%90%83chi%E1%90%83-updated-by-the-time-the-events-of) for the chapter


	4. Chapter 4

Hux was standing in front of the Supreme Leader. He was swaying a bit. He’d been fighting off a cold for the last week or so, and he may or may not had a fever. It didn’t matter. There was work to be done, and he croaked out orders as usual. He didn't go to the medbay, and he refused to take his pills - they made him distraught, and he needed his head in the game.

He peered up at the hologram with dry, burning eyes. He suspected that asking about Ren would be in vain.

“I was pleased to learn that the Weapon’s construction is ahead of schedule. Your work is highly appreciated, Colonel.”

“I do my best to serve our Order.”

Maybe Ren was still seriously ill. He was in a pretty bad shape last time he saw him. Would anyone notify him if he died? They wouldn’t, would they?

The Supreme Leader got hold of the armrest, and leant forward. An invasion of personal space. So he’s trying to be intimidating. Hux gently sniffed, and braced himself for the worst.

“Would you do anything to serve?” Snoke asked him, and he felt his stomach drop. His voice was impassive as he replied, almost flippant.

“I’m prepared to do anything which I deem necessary to further our cause.”

Snoke smiled a terrible smile.

“So you wish to have a choice,” his voice boomed.

“I wouldn’t be an officer if I wasn’t capable of making my own decisions, sir.”

“Yet you claim to _serve_ the Order.”

Hux bowed his head, and the world went white for a moment.

“Some serve by leading. I’m one of thousands who are qualified to do that, and I take pride in my job.”

“Yes, I have noticed. Pride is a dangerous thing.”

“Pride gave rise to the First Order. We refused to be defeated. We decided to keep our chin up. That’s the only way we can restore peace in the galaxy.”

“Is it peace you desire?”

“Naturally. I never knew it.”

Snoke withdrew into the shadows. He inclined his head, measuring Hux’s insignificant figure. He hummed.

“Let’s discuss the cost of our peace then, shall we?”

“You have my undivided attention, sir.”

“I gave a secret assignment to my apprentice to accomplish while looking for his former master.”

“May I inquire what the assignment was?” Hux asked, mouth going dry.

“Kylo has unique powers,” Snoke mused. “Some of them are beyond compare to our understanding of the Force. He sees right into the fabric of the soul of every being, and he can unravel its mysteries with an admirable ease. The Knights can merely aspire to be like him.”

“His skills are certainly impressive,” Hux agreed to get him back on track. Snoke glanced at him.

“You have no idea. So, I have this unequalled weapon at hand. He listens to nobody but me, a hound on a loose leash. I told him to sniff around a bit. Smell out the rats. See whether my officers can be trusted. Can you guess what he told me?”

“That most of them can’t be,” Hux said, keeping his tone even. He felt like throwing up.

“Can you be trusted, Colonel?”

This was it. Hux wet his chapped lips.

“You can only take my word of it. What did he say?”

Snoke’s voice was almost bored.

“He spoke highly of you. Also, I happen to know that you’re an excellent marksmen. Top of your class.”

It dawned on Hux then.

“You want me to kill the others.”

“Some of them, yes. Send a message. Break the weakest links. I know for a fact that you’ve done your homework. So. Are you ready to serve?”

 

He finished the rest of his shift, then retired to his quarters. His uniform smelled of snow and the sterile air of the workstation, and he was shivering miserably underneath the thick layers. He peeled them off, and put on a brown sweater, leaving his socks and briefs on as he crawled under the covers. He was sipping on johrian whiskey like it was medicine, cocooned in bed, the instructions regarding his first victim running through the screen of his datapad.

It was kriffing Brigadier Tagratt. May he rest amongst the stars.

Hux had to admit that Snoke bested him. He had sent him written orders, which meant hard evidence against him if he ever tried to go public on this coup d'état to overthrow Snoke. The more promotion Snoke gives him and the more funds, the more connected they become, and he was indulging him as of lately. Snoke’s fall would be his own, so now he had to work extra hard to reinforce Snoke’s regime. He can’t even dream of taking over, not for years.

He rolled the whiskey around his mouth. Glanced at the mattress, at the side where Ren had spent the night.

“ _Idiot_ ,” he thought, setting the bottle aside with trembling fingers. They were still not fully healed. “ _Idiot, idiot_.”

Snoke gave him five days to prepare. He must restore his health. He must see to it that the Weapon’s construction will go smoothly even without his direct supervision, and that the stormtrooper programme keeps up to standards and schedule. For a moment, he wondered whether he'll be able to make it, and his self-doubt seemed to summon the spirit of his father. In a feverish half-dream, Brendol was there with him, standing at the end of his bed, too busy criticising his son to notice that he was dead.

“...a bloody shame, if you ask me. It was supposed to be your inheritance, and you’re giving it up - for what? A _career_ in the army, is that it? They’ll eat you whole. Look at you, sickly and skinny, you don’t have what it takes. They’ll promote you general when you’re sixty out of pity.”

His father was tall, board and bearded, his uniform impeccable. _Papa, papa, papa._ When he was little, he’d reach for him:

“Lift me up, papa!”

And when he was little, his father would do that, let him sit on his shoulders so he’d feel like a giant. His smell would mean safety then, his deep voice lulling him to sleep. He’d call him his little gift. When did he start disappointing him? First, it was the eating and the crying. Then it was everything.

The day his father died, he said:

“You should be a commandant of the Academy. That’s your place, your only place, and I’m forced to leave it to a stranger while you fuck off to embarrass yourself in battle. So you’ve invented a Death Star, eh? How novel. Worked out so well.”

“They’re using our ideas for the stormtrooper programme.”

“ _Your_ ideas. I won’t take credit for that crap you’ve made out of it.”

The lights were pulsing like migraine. The ghost was breathing down Hux’s neck.

“What makes you different from the stormtroopers? The new Empire will need a _man_ , not my best experiment. You’re wasting away your potential. My name and my blood are the most valuable things you’ll ever have.”

“I’m a beggar, then.”

  

 

Hux pulled the trigger. The plasma beam made no sound. He was lying on a rooftop across Brigadier Tagratt’s apartment.

He didn’t really know him, but he knew some trivial things about him. He watched his brains paint the durasteel wall scarlet, and he thought, this is the man who hated mineral water. What a crappy necrologe. He hated mineral water and he loved bad puns, he hanged out at Ord Mantell on leave, he was wary of Kylo Ren, and he was saving for a KO-5D unit last time Hux talked with him on the _Vanguard_.

He took the blaster rifle apart. The metal was still hot underneath his palm, the heat seeping through the leather gloves he had on. He let out the breath he was holding.

So.

One down.

 

The kyber crystals traveled with him from spaceport to spaceport, from planet to planet. He told himself that they were too valuable to be out of his sight. He’d turn them around in his hands at night. His favorite one seemed red, but if he tilted it just so, it’d reflect the lights back with a blue shimmer.

They were his sole company in the long weeks turning to months. He was isolated and invisible. He had to be. It was part of the job. There were days when the sound of his own voice surprised him as he huffed out air or grunted. Still, it was better to be a ghost in the machine than a glorified desk jockey.  

One night, he was at Belazura. The window of his cozy little motel room was facing a glistening lake. Lampions where floating above the surface, rivalling the fairy lights of the boats and gondola speeders. He was lying on his side, with the crystals in his fist, and watched the various beings sauntering along the harbor. He couldn’t hear their chatter and laughter. The windows were sealed, the air conditioner’s white noise filling everything. He was half a town apart from yet another corpse, and as he watched the crowd, he imagined the rising sun devouring everything, come morning; it’d be a Red Giant, hungry and huge, and everyone who gathered to gaze upon the wonder of the dawn would behold with terror as it grew, flames flaring up the horizon.

When he drifted to sleep, he dreamt of the cave. It was exactly like how he remembered it, but the point of view shifted. He saw Ren kneeling, but hardly recognised him. He wasn’t paying attention to him. He was watching himself, transfixed, as he was a stranger, a tall man in black fur, hair glowing in the darkness, lips stern, eyes almost transparent. He was surrounded by flickers of light and a pheromonic smell, and that’s when he realised that he was looking at himself as he were young Ren; that the eager smirk on the boy’s face was meant for him, and not for the crystal. He reached out to grasp the future.

 

Hux woke with an aching erection, picturing the grown up Ren as he rolled to his stomach and started fucking the mattress, still half asleep. He was grasping the sheets, panting as he rolled his hips. He could see the yearning in Ren’s misty eyes, wanting more and more as Hux rocked into him, like it was never enough, and he kept crying out “colonel, colonel.”

Hux palmed himself. If he could, he’d hug Ren closer, bury his face into his shoulder, and he’d coax him into delirium. If Ren was there, he would go oh-so-slow, he’d even deny him his orgasm. He’d tease him to the brink of absolute pleasure, then he’d pull back. He’d sit back on his heels and watch Ren heaving and wriggling, trying to fake how Hux feels, fingering his slick hole in vain. He’d forbid him to touch his cock.

He imagined the frustrated tears running down Ren’s cheeks, imagined him begging. He’d ask him: “do you promise not to have any more episodes in the future?”

Ren, desperate as he would be, would still have that defiant little wrinkle around his lips, a shallow trench of challenge. It’s not enough to defeat Ren; he must be conquered and vanquished with the utmost care.

 

His orgasm woke him up.

That was his life now, killing people and jerking off to the memories of a mystic knight. He couldn’t afford proper hookups. Worse still, he only brought one dildo, and he was running out of lube.

He pulled off the cover, threw it into the washer, and showered in the sonic. By the time he started shaving, he felt like himself again. He combed his hair to the side; his usual hairstyle would be instantly associated with the Order. He put on a silky shirt, skinny pants and an asymmetrical coat with leather trim. He got his luggage, and checked out of the hotel, looking every inch a young civilian.

The Star Commuter 2000 was waiting for him at the station. It was a sad red with an RX-series pilot droid and a phantom crew, inaptly named _Adventure_. The pilot greeted him in binary, and Hux almost beeped back. Stars. He needed to return to society soon.  

He dropped his bag, the blaster rifle hitting the floor with a heavy thud. The bridge’s grille creaked under his ankle boots. He headed to his seat, and halted as he heard a strange trilling sound over the humming of the engines.  
  
“Ma-hwrr.”

He looked around, and then looked down. He could make out a felinx through the grill.

“Muh-hurr,” the stowaway meowed. Hux dropped to his knees, cursing. Red lights flashed, reminding all passengers to kindly take their seats so their blood vessels would remain intact. He lifted the panel, and scooped up the felinx, just in time to get hold of the railing.

The g-force of the launch pushed him against the wall, knocking the air out of his lungs. He pulled his legs up, curling around the pet to protect it. He was beginning to suspect that it wasn’t a felinx; it wasn’t making the appropriate noises, and it was smaller - a cat, probably; an extremely distressed one, who kept clawing at his shirt and trying to wiggle away in panic.

“Keep calm, please,” Hux told it. “We’ll soon leave the atmosphere and jump to hyperspace, and it’ll all be okay. No need to fuss about it.”

The cat looked at him like he was crazy. It had ginger stripes over a lighter fur, and a bow around its neck. It was soft and elegant, well-fed. Female. Around two human years. As soon as gravity was back to normal, Hux stood up, and went to his seat, hugging the cat to his scratched chest.

“How did you get in here?” he muttered.

“Hruff,” the cat said.

“I should take you to a vet. Space travel can be extremely dangerous to pets. Who’d be so careless…”

As he spoke, the commuter’s nose tilted forward, and a box slid into Hux’s field of vision with dramatic lethargy. It was wrapped in deep blue paper, with little holes on the top and a threadbare ribbon hanging off. It looked like something a cat escaped from very recently. Hux followed it with his gaze.

That’s it. The cat can’t say.

He’ll give her to the mourning family of his next victim or something.

 

D3AR [C0L0N3L] HUX  

//

H0W AR3 TH1NGS I CANT G3T Y0U 0UT 0F MY H3AD AR3 Y0U STILL MAD @ M3 I KN0W N0W THAT I’V3 MAD3 A MISTAK3 I’M S0RRY

//

TH3R3’S S0 MUCH TO L3ARN STILL BUT TH3 WISD0M 0F MY M3NT0R WILL GUID3 M3

//

I AM 0F DARKN3SS & I AM 0F LIGHT BUT I LIV3 IN THIS W0RLD 0F SHADOWS & MUST F0LL0W ITS RUL3S I’VE M3T Y0U HALFWAY Y0U KN0W WH3R3 Y0U’R3 H3ADED

//

GUID3 M3

//

BUT I MUST WALK TH3 PATHS 0F TH3 F0RC3 ALON3 I’M S0 SCAR3D THAT I MIGHT L00SE MY WAY BUT I F0CUS MY ATT3NTION @ MY D3STINATI0N I WILL ARRIV3 TH3R3 & VICT0RY WILL AWAIT M3 SUPR3M3 L3AD3R SN0K3 T0LD M3 S0

//

I WANT T0 LIV3 IN TH3 W0RLD Y0U WILL CR3AT3 HUX I KN0W TH3R3 W0ULD B3 A PLAC3 F0R M3 BY Y0UR SID3

//

I ASK Y0U N0T T0 PUSH M3 AWAY F0R G00D BUT I S0 N33D3D Y0U T0 B3 UNM3RCIFUL AFT3R ILUM & IN Y0UR CRU3LTY Y0U W3R3 CARING Y0U W3R3 A BL3SSING SINC3 THE L0NG M0NTHS 0F 0UR S3PARATI0N T3ACH3D M3 TH3 TRU3 NATUR3 0F D3SIR3 & D3SP3RATION & RAG3 EM0TI0NS I N33D3D T0 FU3L TH3 F0RC3

//

S0 THANKS T0 Y0U I B3ST3D TH3 MAST3R 0F TH3 KNIGHTS 0F R3N I F0UGHT HIM T0 D3ATH & I PR3VAIL3D N0W TH3Y CALL M3 MAST3R & KILLING HIM GAV3 M3 UNLIMIT3D P0W3R

//

Y0U MAK3 M3 STRONG3R

//

I AM @ Y0UR DISP0SAL & I’M R3ADY T0 GIV3 Y0U 3V3RYTHING Y0U S3CR3TLY WISH F0R IT’S TH3 L3AST I CAN D0

//

TH3 H0UR W3 WILL S33 3ACH 0TH3R AGAIN IS APPR0ACHING & I WILL B3 S0 HAPPY

//

TAK3 M3 APART I N33D Y0U T0 RUIN M3 & R3BUILD M3 Y0UR T0UCH IS MY UNMAKING I WANT Y0U I WANT Y0U I WANT Y0U

//

H0W D0 Y0U LIK3 Y0UR PR3S3NT TH3 CAT R3MIND3D ME 0F Y0U SH3’S IND3P3ND3NT FR33 WILD N0BL3 GRAC3FUL & SH3 HAS TH3 SAM3 GRUMPY L00K Y0U D0 S0 FUNNY L00K @ H3R Y0U’R3 PRACTICALLY TWINS

//

Y0URS Y0URS Y0URS ALON3//

KYL0

//

PS PL3AS3 KN0W THAT I AM IN L0V3 W/ Y0U

 

Hux decided to murder Ren at the earliest convenience. The atrocious letter he attached to the box wasn’t even in aurebesh; for whatever reason, he used Dathomirian symbols, but since the text was in Basic, he made some high-handed changes. The symbols represented the first sound of the Dathomirian words they referred to, and reading those together spelled out the Basic sentences. Since the sound correspondence of the two languages was inadequate at best, Ren got really creative, and mashed some symbols, resulting in delightful little drawings like a snake with a candleholder on its head, which took some time for Hux to realise meant ‘ch.’

Hux couldn’t figure out why would Ren encrypt the message. He didn’t seem the type who’d worry about it falling into the wrong hands. Maybe he had dysgraphia or something. Even more troubling was the question how the hells the box got on the commuter.

Thanks to Ren and his insistence on kriffing _courting_ him and sending love tokens, he had to take said love token to the vet between two missions. Of course, the droid wasn’t programmed to examine cats, so it had to do a software update. Hux got stuck in the waiting room, and scrolled through an online pet store which promised free shipping and delivery within an hour so the cat would have a carrier, a litter box, a collar, a leash, shampoo and food and bowls and brushes and toys and a scratching post, and while he was at it he threw in a fluffy kitty bed just for the hell of it.

He had some trouble programing her tracking device. It couldn’t possibly say “if lost, return to the super secret First Order base which doubles as a weapon of mass destruction, thanks,” but he did not have a home address. He never claimed the family estate.

“I’m practically homeless,” he confessed the cat. “I don’t think you should stay with me. There’re better places to be.”

 

Weeks went by, and he noticed something strange. Every time he’d return to the _Adventure_ and make his pathetic bed by covering four seats with a sheet, the cat was there, waiting, purring, meowing as she circled his legs. She promptly ignored the bed Hux purchased for her, and slept on his chest or over his face. Her company made him feel _safe_ , which didn’t make much sense.

He didn’t pledge his life to the First Order to be made into a bloody bounty hunter, waiting for the evening so he could curl up with the cat. He should be commanding star destroyers, but they were all frozen in a mockery of peace, the ice of the cold war barely melting. He wanted to be at the constriction site of the Weapon, to watch the cracks it created with his own eyes, but all he could see was destruction as he slaughtered the officers whose only sin was that they wouldn’t bend the knee to the Supreme Leader. If Ren was a hound, he was something much worse, a crossbreed lapdog whose sole chance of survival was mindless obedience. _Yes, papa, at your command, General, I’ll serve you, Supreme Leader_.

He rolled to his back. The lights were on one percent. He started getting paranoid. Seeing forms shifting in the darkness. The _Adventure_ reminded him too much of his childhood; how he’d search for rebels under his bed before he’d go to sleep.

They were in exile. His father told him that the rebels wouldn’t leave survivors. His nanny droids couldn’t come with them in the escape pod. He was the only child on board. He was all alone.  

They hardly reached their star destroyer when they were ambushed. He remembered a rebel woman lifting him up, and someone shouting:

“Get the little boy outta here!”

“Kriff, there’s a fucking kid here!”

And the woman said to him:

“It’s gonna be okay.”

He was kicking, clawing, biting, wriggling. There were were fallen soldiers all around them. He knew what’d happen if the Rebels kidnapped him. They’d interrogate him. Make him speak. Make him bleed. Make him a traitor and a coward.

He remembered his father approaching them through the crossfire, the flashing plasma beams illuminating his determined face. He was marching through the bloodshed with his chin up, not blinking an eye as he shoot the woman holding his son. Hux reached for him:

“Lift me up, papa!”

Brendol Hux gathered him against his chest, and he buried his face in his neck. Holding a blaster in his right and his son in his left, father faced the enemy - and destroyed them.

The cat nuzzled into his neck, and Hux stroked her absent-mindedly, combing her fur with his fingers until she fell asleep, purring.

He didn’t dare name her yet.

It was selfish and irresponsible of Ren to give a living animal as a gift. He shouldn’t accept or appreciate it. It was wrong, just as wrong as the letter had been.

_Please know that I’m in love with you._

He can’t allow this to go on. Still, every night he slept cuddling the cat and with the kyber crystals under his travel pillow, the worst place he could keep them; and Ren was between his ribs, the worst place he could keep such a man.

 

The next morning the Supreme Leader summoned him. Hux put on his uniform in high hopes, heart throbbing in his throat. So far, he only received written orders, no doubt not even typed by Snoke. He might be sent back to base. Or get executed.

He walked to the _Adventure_ ’s holochamber, which was more like a hololocker. He was late by a calculated tenth of a second, enough time so he wouldn’t feel like he was completely under the thumb of the Supreme Leader.

He was standing at attention in the low-lit, gray locker, looking as imposing as he could muster. The image of the throne flickered into existence - it wasn’t enlarged for once, just the size of a normal chair.

Ren was sitting on it.

More exactly, he was sprawled over it, long legs hanging from the armrest, head propped up. He looked at Hux, his slow gaze disarming and dangerous.

“Greetings.”

“You’ve killed the Supreme Leader?” Hux blurted out. Ren frowned, confused, and eyed Hux up and down, measuring, taking him in. Hux tried his best to look unaffected. Once Ren was quite done admiring him, he asked:

“Why would I do that?”

Hux coughed politely.

“You killed your Master, and you’re hunting for the former one.”

“That’s different,” Ren squirmed, licking his lips. “You look even skinnier than I remember. Do you eat well?”

“Where’s Snoke?”

“He’s just sleeping, okay? He needs his rest. His body is very weak.”

“Was it you who summoned me, then?”

“You never replied to my letter.”

There was a slight pause. It was Hux’s turn to let his gaze roam over Ren. The hologram made him believe that he could just reach out and touch him, trace the shadows under his ardent eyes, dig his fingers into his hair and claim his generous lips.

He clasped his hands behind his back.

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“I admit,” Ren confessed, “that I may have come across a bit steamed up. In my defense, the duel was quite intense. The only weapon we could use was our minds, so. My energies were all over the place for weeks.”

Hux tilted his head.

“So you take back what you’ve written?”

“No,” Ren retorted, and then added, toneless: “it’s not my fault if what I wrote scared you. I was just being honest. That’s all.”

Hux huffed.

“You haven’t changed a bit.”

“I did. I’ve matured. I’ve grown as a person. I’m the youngest Master in the history of our order.”

“How old is your organisation exactly?”

“Very old,” Ren gritted. “It just had a different name. Also, it’s an order, not an organisation.”

“Keep the good work up, then,” Hux said. “You’ve made me proud.”

Ren’s eyes widened in surprise; it was only a second, then he collected himself and even sat up properly, palms on his knees. He spread his thighs a bit.

“How did you like your present?”

“Why did you send me one?”

“Can’t I just send a present to my boyfriend when I feel like it?”

“What made you think I was your boyfriend?”

“The fact that you like me,” Ren said calmly. Hux took a sharp intake of breath.

“Ren.”

“You do, you still do. I can see it. Feel it. Why can’t you admit to yourself finally that-”

“I’ve made my decision.”

“Listen,” Ren snapped. His voice was deep and threatening as he got to his feet. “Stop being such a hypocrite. You can’t keep doing this to me, or to yourself, for that matter. I can see right through you without even touching your mind, your frustration is swelling up my tongue and your ambition is bursting my skull open. I’m the only one in this galaxy who’ll _ever_ get you, and you _crave_ that. How long will you deny yourself everything you-”

“That’s adulthood for you, Ren,” Hux interrupted. “We realise that we can’t get everything we want. We realise that we shouldn’t take everything just because it’s within our reach.”

“You called me by my name,” Ren said. “You told me I could return to you if I return stronger, you promised me, and I-”

“And you’re entitled to your prize, hah?” Hux arched his eyebrow. “You’ve been so good and so brave, so you get your happy ending with your chosen one? Don’t make me laugh. That’s not how life is. Oh, great. Don’t start crying now.”

Ren was shaking before him - light years away. He was beautiful like this, with angry tears trembling on his eyelashes, lips taut, cheeks red.

“Kylo Ren,” Hux said gently. “Look at me.”

Ren glanced at him like he could kill him; oh, he could, but he wouldn’t; and that was love. _  
_

“Return to me stronger and wiser,” Hux repeated. “Don’t change; evolve. Walk your silly path. I can’t be with you if I just hold you back. Don’t believe for a second that I’m all your strength. You’re not incomplete without me, that’s nonsense. Rise to the challenge. Learn to walk on your own before you’d come running to me. I want the First Order to be your priority. If the Supreme Leader calls to you, you’ll go. If they send you to battle, you’ll go. If you need to see to your duties, you’ll do just that, no matter how long it takes. Our separation did us good. I was… thinking. What we have has outgrown us; you’re right to think that I can no longer treat it as a prolonged one night stand. Yes, we’re involved. But I’ll only settle for the best, Ren.” He stepped closer. “So give me the best version of yourself you can ever become.”

He cupped Ren’s face. He knew he wouldn’t feel it, but Ren leant into his touch just the same. He was swallowing back his sobs. Hux touched the hologram’s tears, smudging them with his thumb.

“Ren?”

“Uh-huh?”

“I’ve named the cat Millicent.”

He stepped back. With that, the call was over, and he was all alone in the locker once again, hoping that he told Ren everything which was necessary.

 

He thought that every victim would be his last, or the one after them.

He was never correct.

He only ever felt like himself when he was going through the daily reports from the Base. He was actually impressed by the sheer amount of fuckups.

The planetary shield was malfunctioning, and doubled the strength of the spectral UV radiance. The artificial containment field was so strong that it caused power outages every so often. The hyperspace tunnel team created a wormhole by accident. Captain Phasma seemed to be the only competent person planetside, whose reports were always satisfactory, except the one about a squadron being swallowed up by said wormhole. Apparently, they had to send for Snoke to close it with the Force, which made Hux pissed over and above, since he couldn’t be there. Not that he was very eager to get close and personal with a wormhole, but the rare sight of Snoke actually working would’ve been worth it. Also, he wondered whether he was accompanied by Ren. The report didn’t mention it.

Hux’s comments and replies were always brief and to the point, which made it all the more bizarre how he ended up exchanging dirty messages with Ami Vapasi, chief engineer. With this, he had two men in the galaxy waiting in line for his sorry cock. He wasn’t sure whether he should tell Ren that he had competition. One thing led to another; he didn’t even know what he gotten himself into. Vapasi wasn’t insulting him, for a thing, which he came to associate with flirting, and by the time he realised that ‘gingerly waiting your reply’ was a pun, they were already at dickpics. Three, to be exact; Hux merely received them, and never returned the favor. Ren was bigger.

The idea of being stuck with one partner never appealed to him, but he wasn’t flirting with Vapasi for kicks, or at least, not exactly. The thought how hurt Ren would be if he ever found out kept him going. He’d kill Vapasi even if it meant that he’d never be able to see Hux again. The prospect of Ren’s jealousy was more arousing than Vapasi’s eight-pack on the received pictures. Why would he get steamy with a doe-eyed engineer, pretty as he might be, when he had a knight at his disposal?

The thrill of sex with fatal consequences be damned, he knew he’d put an end to the Vapasi-situation and any other chance to get laid, although he was still not convinced it’d be worth it.

 

Then he received the next name on his list, and his fictional sex life became the least of his problems.

It was Lieutenant Leqarna. Hux always managed to get on her nerves, but he respected her no-nonsense attitude.

He didn’t know she was pregnant. It didn’t change a thing, he told himself as he was sitting on the commuter’s floor, Millicent purring in his lap and Leqarna’s blood drying on his face. The Weapon will destroy so much more, milliards and milliards of hearts will stop beating and brains full with ideas and memories will stop working, warm flesh melting away. There’ll be children, toddlers, teenagers, pregnant people, so on, civilians who did nothing wrong, and they’ll perish in a flash of red light, which will fade away in a decade, leaving behind _nothing_. Gone all their mundane problems, gone all their brilliance.

This is the galaxy he’s creating. Peace will spread like radiation illness, and the mushroom cloud of success will blast his chest. He’ll feel ecstatic, because he’ll recognise what an immense price he payed for his victory.

He didn’t know Leqarna was up the duff. So what.

He would’ve pulled the trigger just the same. He would pull it again. And again.

His hand stopped mid-stroke, and Millicent was outraged; she nudged his hand, _love me, love me, love me._

_(Mother, please.)_

Lieutenant Leqarna and her unborn kid died over and over again as Hux kept replaying the scene in his head. He had to get close. That was the problem. Leqarna’s home was well-protected, like she expected death to knock on her durasteel door.

“Hux? Fancy seeing you here, come on in.”

He didn’t feel remorse. He didn’t regret it. There was no emptiness or dull pain in his chest, nothing he read he was supposed to feel.

He was just angry.

He hadn’t been briefed properly.

Lieutenant Leqarna was on maternity leave, for crying out loud; she’d be gone for two years at least - her sympathies shouldn’t have mattered; her death was utterly unnecessary, and Hux hated the waste of resources. She was a gifted soldier.

Those milliards and milliards will die for a reason. And she died because she fucked some Resistance volunteer on leave, and decided to keep the baby.

 

“Congratulations, Colonel. You’ve completed your mission with success.”

 _That’s what I did_ , Hux thought haggardly, but he merely said:

“I am honored to serve you.”

He would’ve rather spoke to Ren again, but well. At least the Supreme Leader was talking to him again. The projection of a glass-boned old wazzock deemed him worthy. How exciting. Still, Hux didn’t let his disdain show; he figured that Snoke was deformed by the grace of his powers, so he looked at his terrible skull, the exposed nerves clinging to the ashen flesh, and reminded himself not to underestimate him, not for a minute.

“Your obedience is exemplary, but you’re still capable of independent thinking. It’s a rare value I had to put to test.”

“It was a test,” Hux repeated.

“One you’ve passed. There’re great things lying ahead of us. You will have your fair share of it. Your assistance will be crucial. Your genius is only part of the reason I chose you. I needed to see what kind of man you were; merciless, but capable of forming attachments.”

“Why would that matter, if I may ask?”

“When someone is attached to something, he’ll fight for it. Your thirst for glory would only get you so far.” He inclined his head. “Should I tell Kylo Ren you send your regards?”

 

Hux was floating atop the waves on his back, arms outstretched, letting the silver sea rock him.

It was raining.

It was always raining on Arkanis. Yellow lights illuminated a world of gray, sickly golden fog over  the water’s surface. The air smelled of electricity.

They say the reason humans are drawn to the sea is because it reminds them of the womb. Such a dumb idea.

Speaking of dumb ideas: coming back to Arkanis was clearly a mistake, but he had no other place to go. Snoke sent him to shore leave. It was implied that Hux would need his strength in the times ahead, and he should rest. Weightless promises.

Millicent and him stayed in the Grand Krennic, named in loving memory of Orson Krennic who graced it with his presence, stayed three days, and got pneumonia. Hux made sure to book the same suite he had, and ask for extra blankets.

The building was floating over a valley, rust flowing down the ornate metal towers, statues mouldering, gargoyles spitting water. It was imposing and charming, a reconstructed survivor from lost millenias. Hux was pleased to discover that his suite had an electric fireplace. It was just like him that he merely spent half a minute in front of it, warming his bones, then he headed back to the rain, leaving Millicent to her own devices.

He was soaking in the cold sea in his underwear, the lighthouse’s yellow beacon washing over him. Hux kept close to the shore and promised himself he’d get out as soon as the lights turned to orange.

He closed his eyes, listening to the warships and cranes creaking in the distance and drones whooshing away. There was not a soul nearby; no one in their right mind would get close to the coast when there was a storm coming.

Last time he left the planet, he went to look for his mother.

And then he didn’t come back.

When his father died, he thought there would be nothing in his way to her anymore. He didn’t expect a bittersweet reunion; he expected answers. His father would only tell him that his mother was a kitchenmaid. Going through the list of catering personnel serving on the planets his father was stationed at nine months prior to his birth proved to be pointless. They only employed droids. Something was amiss, and the cylinder to the mystery was in his father’s safe.

The family’s lawyer wouldn’t allow him to open it. He said they should wait till all the inheritors were present; Hux hadn’t realised there were others than him, and then Maratelle Xiong Sung walked in. She was his father’s ex-wife; the woman whose life was ruined thanks to Hux. The lean years left a mark on her face, her cheekbones almost painfully prominent. She was wearing a coverall, thick black hair tied up. A manual worker, no question, when she used to be clad in silk. She gave birth to two stillborn daughters, a common occurrence among pregnant people traveling the galaxy, the anxiety of war pursuing them. She was still mourning when Brendol returned with a baby boy and no explanation.

The Empire needed children. And Brendol was just so fucking eager to serve.

“I don’t want his money,” she told the lawyer.

“I advise you to reconsider, ma’am.”

“He took my dignity. What did he think? That he could just repay me? I don’t care that he’s dead. I won’t forgive him until _I_ live.”

Hux was standing by the long windows, and watching her, he thought: this is the woman my father loved. He was devoted to her; he must’ve considered it such a heroic sacrifice to break her heart just to give an heir to the Empire. And look how that turned out. A boy of ten was holding Maratelle’s hand, his would-be-brother in a different universe, chubby and healthy. Maratelle turned to him.

“Are you okay, Armitage?”

He lost his father three days prior, and she was the only one who asked him this.

“I just want to get it over with,” he said, disarmed.     

“Right. Would you accept my share? A fine young man like yourself must have plans.”

“I- if that’s alright, I’d like to see my birth certificate before we discuss anything. He keeps a hard copy in his safe. Maybe we could-”

“Poor boy. You must’ve wondered.”

“Here you go,” the lawyer held it up, and Hux crossed the room to get it, heart hammering. His hands were shaking as he unfolded it.

TIPOCA KAMINO ABRION, the maiden name of his mother read. He remembered that the world came to a halt as he spelt it out; that his breath was burning as he blurted out:

“Did you-”

 _Did you know her_ , he wanted to ask. Her name sounded so familiar, like an ancient memory (something which could be washed up by the sea) and then he realised.

Tipoca wasn’t a person.

It was the capital of Kamino, a mysterious planet in the Abrion-system.

“Go visit her,” Maratelle said. “She’ll be happy to see you, I’m sure.”

And when he visited Tipoca-

 

The lights bled to orange. A tall figure was standing on the shore, watching him suffocating in memories.

 

When he visited Tipoca, he was so afraid. It was his first shore leave, and he took the opportunity to unravel the mystery. There was a raging ocean outside and a sterile calm inside; white lights; he was greeted by a graceful creature with long neck and empty, black eyes. Hux hoped he’d lost his way.

“Oh, of course I remember Brendol Hux’s order,” the creature said serenely. Behind her, there were long rows of cloning chambers. “It was the most peculiar arrangement.”

Pathetic little creatures were floating in the bright blue capsules, mass produced fetuses on vastly different levels of development, feeding off of tubes, fragile, nude. Some of the capsules were empty.

“You’re probably aware that cloning is our speciality, so Brendol Hux’s order posed quite the challenge. He wouldn’t hear about it. We made him artificial stem cells, and combined it with the DNA he provided us with.”

Hux frowned.

“There were six fetuses,” his guide went on. Hux felt like an outsider in his own present, like he was observing it from behind the glass of the capsules.

“Six, you said?”

“Ah, indeed, including the twins. We structured all of their DNA differently, and he was supervising how they developed. Only one met his standards, although I must add that all were top-quality; just not what he was looking for.”

Hux asked:

“What happened to the others?”

“Ah, we incinerated them, of course.”

“And what happened to the fittest?”

“Oh? Excuse me, sir - I was under the impression that that was you.”

 

TIPOCA KAMINO ABRION. He should never have found out.

He wasn’t the only one in the universe who was bio-engineered and then had been called a bastard their whole life.

It was no comfort. There was a reason his father had kept it a secret. The First Order believed in bloodlines and breeding.

It would never accept him.

 

The sea was orange and gray. A black silhouette stepped into the water.

He was laughing.

His robes were swirling around his legs as he came closer and closer.

Kylo Ren. He might’ve been imagining him. He had his hood on. He recognised his nose, though.

Hux tried to stay above the surface, padding leisurely. Ren trod the water, and stopped once it reached his chest. A wave pulled him back, then the next one pushed him towards Hux.

“How are you not freezing?” he shouted. Lighting cut through the sky.

“How did you find me?” Hux yelled back, splashing around still. Ren either couldn’t swim, or refused to do so; both of these thoughts entertained Hux.

“I’ve read you were on leave. Figured you’d come here. Felt your presence as soon as I landed.”

“I see.”

“Isn’t it dangerous, what you’re doing?” Ren asked as the tide drawed him back. The rocks made a sound like they were laughing at him; it was just the waves breaking.

“You should ask yourself that.”

Hux took a deep breath, and dived. He opened his eyes, and let the current carry him to Ren. He gripped his hips, and pulled him underwater with a wicked little smirk. Ren gasped, bubbles escaping, and Hux kissed him, breathing into him.

 

They got to the shore in a very wet and desperate struggle.

Ren laid him over a flat rock, and knelt above him. His hair was dripping, a curtain of dark rain, his narrow face the glowing moon. Thunder rolled, and lightning striked into the water just a few miles from them. Ren’s soiled locks caressed Hux as he worshipped his hollow chest and his stomach, kissing every inch of him.

He ripped his briefs off. As soon as he had Hux’s cock, he put it in his mouth, humming around it, and licked the salty skin like he was starving for it. Hux hissed, and grabbed Ren’s nape, guiding him. Ren’s hand roamed over his trembling abdomen, then down his thighs.

He was here.

He was with him.

The sea was moaning.

Ren’s mouth was so hot, and he bobbed his head in sync with the storm. Hux wondered who adjusted to whom: man to nature, or nature to man.

Ren let out a soft whimper as Hux’s cock accidentally popped free, lapping at it root to tip before he’d take it back in deep.

Hux wanted to sit up so he could see better, watch Ren’s eyelashes flutter, but he couldn’t move, an invisible force pinning him to the rock. He could hear a low murmur at the edge of his consciousness, and Ren’s voice followed: _may I, Colonel_?

Hux glanced down his lap, and Ren met his eyes. Obscene. Pathetic. Breathtaking. Salvia and precome was dripping down Ren’s chin, his gaze clouded.

“You may,” he breathed, and his breath hitched. He could feel Ren’s arousal, and the past clashed with the present - he was fucking Ren back on the base and the sea was roaring. A pulsing rhythm, and something flaring up in his mind, his stomach, his groin - an explosion of pleasure - and he coming violently, sobbing, as Ren swallowed down every drop of it.

 _Will it be always like it?_ he wondered, dazed and half mad. Ren straddled his hips, and kissed him and again and again. He was hard in his pants, and he didn’t even seem to care.

“It’s cheating,” Hux panted. “Your Force-thing.”

“You like it,” Ren said with a tired smile. Hux felt boneless, but buzzing with energy, the cool spatter of rain a welcome relief. His scratches throbbed - the rock wasn’t the best of ideas. Ren pecked on his lips, asking, “did you miss me?”

“You want to stay, huh?”

“Will you send me away?”

“Would you obey?”

Ren frowned. Hux brushed away some wayward strands from his forehead. Ren was watching him, and Hux’s chest felt like it’d burst open. One year, or something like that, and having Ren with him felt just as comfortable and familiar as slipping into a coat come winter. Ren had his leather gloves on, and Hux considered ripping them off of him with his teeth so he’d feel more heat.

“So I can stay if I obey,” Ren concluded. Hux met his eyes.

“Yes.”

“But that’d bore you. Someone just rolling under your heels and baring his stomach for a kick. You wouldn’t want that. You want a challange.”

“I do.”

“And I cannot fascinate you with sex alone.”

“Your techniques are effective and innovative, but I wouldn’t call them fascinating.”

Ren ran his fingers over Hux’s arms, smearing the drops of rain.

“Could I stay if I just asked?”

“Say please.”

“Please,” Ren said, digging his fingers into the pale flesh. Hux tensed, then relaxed against the pain.

“You’re even more fucked up than I am,” he observed.

Ren grinned. He was still gripping his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Chuck Wendig, author of _Aftermath: Life Debt_** : What are you?  
>  **Me** : I'm sorry
> 
> My beta reader was [gingercaf](http://gingercaf.tumblr.com/), who continues to kick ass. Mostly the ass of bad grammar. 
> 
> **Update** : The ridiculously talented Sybil made a [fanart](http://some-sybil-shit.tumblr.com/post/149231665114/let-me-tell-you-about-this-important-fic-its/) for the fic - check it out, it's gorgeous (and slightly NSFW)
> 
> Find me on tumblr: [longstoryshortikilledhim](http://longstoryshortikilledhim.tumblr.com/) // moody [moodboard](http://longstoryshortikilledhim.tumblr.com/post/149382868936/psychom%E1%90%83chi%E1%90%83-updated-by-the-time-the-events-of)


	5. Chapter 5

The hot wind was blowing sand in Ren’s face, the grains crunching between his teeth as he headed into the storm. There were rusty red spots around him in the desert, blood clotting and rotting under the boiling sun.

Ren rasped:

“I’m looking for my blood.”

There was a gaping wound on his side, and the blood marked his way, step by step, drop by drop. He limped on, following his shadow around.

“I’m looking for my blood.”

The clouds of sand roared and collapsed, and he could catch a glimpse of an AT-AT’s wreck, and he could hear, faintly, a young girl sobbing.

“Come back… Come back…”

The sand swallowed everything then.

 

Hux woke up wheezing. The rain was tapping on the windows, greenish lights washing over the suite like it was underwater. He propped himself on his elbows, and squinted around. Ren was there, alright, by the fireplace in all his half-naked glory, stretching into weird positions. He caught Hux watching him, and grinned, eyes glinting. His hair was tied up, ridiculous ears poking out.

“Rise and shine.”

“On civilised planets,” Hux croaked, “there’s a time and place for exercise. You’ll, uh. There’s a rather well-equipped gym downstairs.”

“I doubt they can help me with alchaka,” Ren winked. He seemed so happy it was heartbreaking. “How was sleep?”

“You’ll ruin the carpet. It’s Wrodian. They work on one piece for generations. It’s not a darned uh, gym mat.” He yawned. Millicent nuzzled closer, and he turned his back to Ren and all his cheerfulness, hugging his cat closer. He closed his eyes, just for a moment, listening to the rain and the fire and the small huffs of air Ren exhaled.

 

“Colonel? Wake up.”

“I’m waking up,” Hux repeated, and sat up, but then he just stayed like that, shoulders slumped, eyes still hooded. Ren bit his lower lip, looking guilty as he handed a thermomug to Hux.

“The room service droid was just here. I got you biscuits, there’s um, sweet-sand and blue buttermilk and honeymelon?”   

“I appreciate the sentiment, but I don’t eat breakfast,” Hux mumbled, and accepted the mug of caf, fingers brushing over Ren’s knuckles. His hair was down, and he was wearing a faded gray sweater. He looked strikingly casual. Cozy. Normal.

Hux averted his gaze, and tapped on the mug’s side to set the desired temperature on the thermometer which appeared. Some stray strands of hair fell over his forehead.

“I love your hair like this,” Ren said softly. Hux brushed it away.

“Well, I don’t. I’ll wax it in a minute.”

He sipped on the caf, and had to swallow down a moan. It was proper caf; he could almost taste the sunshine which ripened the beans, and it was just the right amount of sweet with a _hint_ of rich spices. He closed his eyes and licked his lips, chasing the taste.

“I love how you usually wear it as well,” Ren went on, “all neat and everything.”

Hux glared at him.

“You don’t have to agree with me.”

“That’s not why I-” Ren snapped, and Hux leant closer.

“If I want my boots licked, I’ll let you know, Ren.”

Ren’s hurt tasted just as sweet as the coffee. Hux took another careful sip as Ren sprung to his feet, grunting:

“Whatever.”

He walked away, arms crossed over his chest. Hux followed him with his gaze. Such a magnificent, sullen creature, simply dashing, so strong and so easy to break. The cliché luxury of the suite suited him, the control panels framed with wood, the tapestry projected on the empty walls. Knight Ren was clad in class, it surrounded him like a heavy cloak, billowing after him anywhere he went. He just stood there, head hanging, and as his hair fell over Hux could catch a glance of his nape. He should put a collar on him. He’d just have to whistle, and this majestic man would be on his knees for him.

One year. One long year, and he still remembered who was his real master. He remembered, but he never had any idea how to obey.

“Why did you wake me up, Ren?” Hux asked, lying back against the padded headboard. Ren made no reply. Hux put the mug aside. “You must’ve been terribly bored without my company, isn’t that right?”  

“I let you do however you please, I allow you to do whatever you want with me,” Ren said, staring into the electric fire; his voice was wavering like the flames. “I don’t… take it well when you mock my feelings. You have these feelings to thank that I even tolerate your banthashit games.”

“Look at me.”

Ren flinched. He looked back from over his shoulder, eyes blazing. Millicent crawled into Hux’s lap, like she was looking for shelter, and Hux let her.

“Repeat what you just said, Ren.”

Ren didn’t. Hux started stroking the cat, the rain still drumming on the glass in harmony with her purring.

“Come here.”

Ren’s lips twitched; still, he obeyed. He stumped closer, head hanging low, like he was wearing the helmet, marching into battle. He stopped by the end of the bed, and then with a bitter determination he knelt on the mattress. He crawled over Hux on all fours, bracketing his slim hips with his knees. Hux kept the cat close to his chest, and looked Ren in the eye.

“I’ve let you into my life, you know,” he told him. “I let you stay with me. I expect your gratitude in return. I’m on leave. You’re here by your free will, but on my own terms. We’ll share the bed, the room, the food. When you break my rules, you leave. Based on the gravity of your offence, I’ll either provide you with a separate room, or demand you to say goodbye to Arkanis. Is that understood?”

Ren nodded.

“The fact that I’m on leave doesn’t mean that I don’t have work to do. Should you attempt to distract me from my duty, you leave immediately.”

“Okay.”

“I’m invited to a gala here. You’ll accompany me.”

Ren let out a surprised little huff. Hux could feel his breath on his cheeks. Ren asked him:

“What about my terms?”

Hux arched his eyebrows.

“You never told me you had any.”

“If you want to use me,” Ren gritted, “I have every right to give you a manual.”

“Let’s hear it, then.”

“I want you to pay attention to my needs, emotional, physical, whatever. I didn’t come here to count the raindrops while you keep busy with Force knows what. I’ll let you work, I _will_ , but if you choose to push me away or put me off, I want explanations, not excuses. We’ve lost enough time. Please.”

Hux smiled at him, faintly.

“You can touch my hair. Go ahead.”

There was a slight pause, then a trembling exhale. Ren buried his fingers into the messy locks, never looking away from Hux; his eyes were so warm. Somehow the gesture was more erotic than a kiss could ever be.

 

It kept raining for three days straight, then some more.

 

Ren was visibly bored during their air taxi ride. Hux could tell, although everything but Ren’s eyes was covered by a veil attached to his hat, which had an unnecessarily huge rim. His fine robe was far too long, and he had to lift the edge of it so it won’t get wet. The fingerless leather gloves reaching past his elbows were simply against logic. Still, Hux could certainly see the appeal of the regalia; it was just a shitty disguise, that’s all.

Ren made fun of Hux for putting on his uniform on leave, hat and everything, and Hux just looked at him and said:

“Not even civilians wear civilian clothes around here. Your attire is expected to show your occupation and social status.”

“Thanks for letting me know.”

Ren was sulking since that short exchange, resting his chin on his hand as he watched Arkanis City through the taxi’s window. He looked mildly scornful. The city was certainly an acquired taste. The rusty skyscrapers always reminded Hux of thorns. They were connected by lean bridges, so one didn’t have to go to the streets, which kept rearranging themselves anyway. Arkanis City was like a gigantic perpetual-motion machine, orchestrated to perfection. He was proud of the genius of the engineers who designed it; it was never flooded, and no earthquake could shake it, no spring tide could swallow it, no tornado could tear it. When it was attacked, it turned into a maze. No Rebels could ever map it properly. The New Republic’s peace officers left early, declaring Arkanis safe, trusting their word to disarm in thirty years. The city’s propaganda posters broadcasted uncensored messages, and the taxi flew under triumphal arches patrolled by the academies’ finest.

He glanced at Ren. They passed a banner which read HONOURABLE ARE THE ONES WHO DIE FOR THEIR HOME. Ren looked at Hux’s reflection in the window, and tilted his head.

“You grew up here?” he asked.

“I grew up in space. I’ve spent my adolescent years here. They were quite decisive.”

Ren hummed. His left was just an inch away from Hux’s hand resting on the leather seat. Neither of them reached out.

“It gives you a sense of belonging, doesn’t it? And they invite you to galas and everything.”

“They have no other choice. I count as a nobleman.”

“You _don’t_ ,” Ren snickered. Hux rolled his eyes. “Wait. No. Do you?”

“In a certain sense, yes. They tried to make sure that I won’t have a claim to my family’s name, but since we have military aristocracy, I could make a name for myself.”

“What?”

“In our society,” Hux explained patiently, “anybody can be an aristocrat who proves themselves in the army, and that’s what I did. So, it’s not exactly an exclusive club, but an exceedingly respectable one. Our nobility consists of our best officers and their linage. Take Her Majesty, for example; her ancestors were-”

“Wait,” Ren interrupted him. “Arkanis has a queen?”

They looked at each other. Ren was the first to blink, the tip of his ears flushing pink.

“Are you telling me,” Hux whispered, shooting a nervous glance towards the chauffeur's nape, “that you’re not familiar with the forms of government of the planets formerly belonging to the Empire?”

“Why would I be?” Ren snapped, and Hux had to realize that he was right.

He was raised by Rebels. He didn’t have the privilege of the quality education Hux received. Hux took him in like he was seeing him for the first time. Ren glanced at him, hesitantly, and poked his hand, like he was testing whether he could touch him. Hux intertwined their fingers, stroking Ren’s dry, calloused palm with his thumb. His nails were bitten.

_“You’re turned on by uneducated scum, huh?”_

_“No,”_ Hux thought back. _“I’m just expressing my condolences over your childhood.”_

He let Ren’s hand drop to the seat with a gentle puff. They both looked at it.

“It wasn’t that bad,” Ren said. “It was just unbearable.”

 

They walked to the tailor’s arm in arm. They had to cross a bowstring bridge, which looked like it was thinking of changing directions any minute, so Hux hurried his steps, leading Ren along. He was worried to leave him behind even for a second. He should’ve warned him that his chances of survival would drastically drop once he sets foot on Arkanis, but it was Ren’s fault that he just barged on a planet which tried its damnedest to kill its inhabitants.

First of all, the atmospheric pressure was very low, which meant migraine and dizziness all year around. The nitrogen dioxide level of the air was worrying, to say the least. The lead contamination in the rain was a nice change after the acid monsoons of the spring. The flora and the fauna wasn’t any better: the trees were either tossed around by the storm, or they were on fire _after_ the storm. Monsters lurked around, deep in the waters and high in the sky, the very things which made armament necessary in the first place.

It crossed Hux’s mind whether Joran was okay out on the sea. Maybe he should comm him one of these days. Ren might’ve sensed that he was thinking of him; Hux could feel him tense. He sticked to him after that, lurking around Hux even when the tailor was taking his measurements, and then he apparently channeled his jealousy to the poor fellow because he dared ask Hux to take his clothes off.

Hux undressed with military efficency, the assisting droid folding his clothes and Ren shooting daggers at the tailor. Hux could’ve sent him away, could’ve told him to wait outside, but there was something thrilling about how _obvious_ he was being. Hux just had to let Ren’s eagerness speak for itself. He was clearly a work in progress, but his efforts to tame him made Ren all the more precious. Hux was admiring him in the mirror; Ren hadn't noticed, too busy giving the evil eye to an unremarkable man with graying hair.  

“I must confess,” the tailor said, “I sleep better knowing that a Hux is on Arkanis.”

Hux bowed his head. He was never Hux here, always just Armitage, junior, That Boy, Brendol’s illegitimate kid, and names they only whispered among themselves, giggling, loud enough that he’d hear.  

“It was high time I came back.”

“I’m afraid nothing’s changed, Colonel Hux.”

“Oh, believe me, there _are_ changes.”

“Will you be moving to Nasturtium Fair with your partner?”

Hux’s lips twitched in distaste, and Ren’s head shoot up. _Nasturtium Fair_ , Hux’s mind echoed, _partner, partner, partner_. Hux’s vision filled with fire-like flowers blooming and an empty mansion with silent halls; then he could see properly again, and Ren whispered, _I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to_ -

Hux gave his best impression of someone whose mind wasn’t invaded by the Force a second ago, and made his frown as pleasant as possible as he turned to the tailor.

“First, there’ll be a war to win.” With the same breath, he added: “Pad the shoulders. Ren, why don’t you get something nice for yourself?”

 

Ren’s order was handled with such secrecy that Hux started to worry he had a wedding dress made. The mysterious gift pleased him, but he was still sulking a bit. What was he supposed to say? “It’s highly unlikely that I’ll bring my boytoy to my ancestor’s kriffing mansion - imagine the scandal!” That’s what he wanted to hear?

Ren was resting his head on Hux’s shoulder on their way back to the hotel. Hux let him, watching their reflection hovering over the city. What would someone think looking at them? What do they look like? Could they tell? What was there to tell?

 

Ren was sitting on the windowsill in briefs and his favored sweater. He pressed his forehead to the cool glass, hugging one of his legs to his chest.

Hux had more pressing matters than to ogle him, but since he got him back, he had this compelling need to check whether he was still there, the same way he’d check his blaster.

Dusk fell, and neither of them seemed to notice. The datapad in Hux’s hand was glowing with a soft blue light, illuminating his face. He had a dressing gown over his all black gym wear; his combat boots were an eyesore, clashing with the velvet shawl collar. He despised wearing shoes indoors, but when he tried to go barefoot like a civilised person, he noticed sand sticking to his heels. He didn’t mention it; Ren was drying his hair in the refresher as he inspected the situation. The sand was definitely coming from Ren’s luggage. Maybe Snoke lived on a desert planet. Most probably, he didn’t. Hux decided to leave the boots on and instruct the cleaning droid to vacuum the place with extra care, and promptly ignored the words about blood and home echoing in his mind.

 

_Dear Hux, sir,_

_I’m bringing you good news: the Weapon just ate her first star! (And we’re still alive, thank fuck.) She fused the hydrogen successfully into helium, and now we have 2 x 10^32  J. energy. That’s all I know. I’m sure you’ll get the report from the physics department in a sec, but I wanted to be the first one to tell you. It’s our baby, after all. How about we celebrate her when you return? Just you and me and some mist-cocktails. Your clothes are not invited._

_Wish you were here,_

_Ami Vapasi,_

_who’s in bed, by the way_

 

_Ami,_

_2 x 10^32 Jenth? I’ve already talked with the phys. dep., but you should be ashamed. We’ll need to annihilate 5 planets [~10 max] and you’re giving me 2 x 10^32 Jenth?_ _That’s Alderaan_ _. You’ve found the tiniest, weakest, saddest star in the whole galaxy to feed the Weapon. ~~While I applaud your groundbreaking scientific discovery on the field of useless suns~~ I know physics is not your forté, so I don’t expect you to understand the depths of your incapability. Still, you should have noticed something was off. The Weapon was running way under its full capacity. That’s not a test run, which I requested. That’s a warm up at best. How is that good news? I’m writing this as a member of your engineering team. It’s not roleplay. I’m really disappointed. _

_Also, please refrain from using gendered pronouns when you talk about the Weapon. We’ve talked about this. It’s not a ship. It’s a planet. It’s bad manners._

_I might still swing by your quarters - maybe fucking you senseless would paradoxically make you smarter,_

 

Hux stopped typing, and glanced at Ren, then back to the datapad.

 

_although I highly doubt it. Consider finding someone who enjoys it when you’re doing anal with their life’s work._

 

“What are you working on?” Ren asked, voice hoarse. Hux didn’t look up as he replied:

“The Weapon’s first test run was a waste of time, I’ve been politely screaming at everyone responsible for the past hour.”

“Which planet died?”

“Just a star in the Outer Rim. A very humble one.”

“Just a star,” Ren repeated, and followed the path of a single raindrop with his finger. There were hundreds of fat drops clinging to the glass. Hux watched as Ren dropped his hand.

“Stars don’t die, by the way,” he told him.

“But they do. They scream.”

“Stars make noises the same way oceans roar, or I don’t know, volcanos erupt.”

“Exactly.” Ren wet his lips. “That’s how you call it? _The_ Weapon?”

“As of yet, we don’t have better ideas, but I must confess that its current name is markedly confusing.”

“You should call it Death Star Three.”

“It’s  _not_ like the Death Star.”

Ren snorted, and turned to Hux, resting his chin on his propped knee. His fingers twitched.

“Have you heard about Galen Marek?”

“Some say he was Darth Vader’s secret apprentice.”

“Do you know what he could do?”

Hux shrugged.

“Anything. If he even existed.”

“He had a codename. Starkiller.”

“I don’t know what would people think if I named the base after a legendary Sith.”

“It’s your weapon,” Ren shrugged. “You can name it however you seem fit.”

Hux turned his attention back to his datapad, humming under his breath. He saved the message he was working on to drafts,  and said:

“Come closer.”

Ren got to his feet, and walked to Hux cautiously, steps heavy. His hair fell over his face, like he was hiding. He was half-hard in his briefs by the time he reached the armchair, like Hux’s attention alone was enough to get him all worked up.

“I like your idea, Ren.”

“Thank you.”

“I don’t like that you’re not playing by your own rules.”

“I do,” Ren objected, then awkwardly added, “Colonel.”

“I can see that something is bothering you. You won’t tell me what it is.”

Ren looked at him, wordlessly, eyes obscenely honest. He reached for Hux’s hands, who let him guide them to his abdomen, slipping under the soft material of the sweater. Ren’s skin was feverishly hot. Hux hooked his thumb to the waistband of his briefs, and tugged them down by a few inches, never breaking eye contact. Ren had to step back and kick them off, then he lowered himself onto Hux’s lap, legs spread. He was still wearing the sweater.

Hux got hold of the armrest, and leant back, watching how the fire cast strange shadows over Ren’s narrow face. He whispered:

“What should I do with you?”

“Whatever you please.”

“You’re not ready for that.”

“So help me get ready.”

Hux chuckled, just a soft _huh_.

“Why do you want it so much?”

“Do you really wanna know?”

“I’m curious.”

Ren leant to his ear, exhaling, and traced around the rim with the tip of his tongue, then bit down on his earlobe with a low hum.

“Send the cat away and find out,” he whispered, nuzzling closer. “Use me, and I quote here, like a boytoy.”  

Hux glanced at the bed. Millicent was on the prowl, ready to pounce on the ball of Ren’s socks.

“Millicent doesn’t know what we’re doing, or she doesn’t care, anyway.”

“You won’t like it if I send her away.”

“I don’t like you reading my mind either, while we’re at it.”

“That was an accident. I’ve overheard.”

“You would be so much happier if you were mentally deaf.”

Ren’s smile was bitter.

“Probably, yeah.”

“What’s gotten into you at the tailor’s?”

“I thought that uh, you were secretly married?”

“Excuse me?”

“That that’s what he meant by “you and your partner” or whatever, but I guess he meant me, which is… flattering.”

“Would you sit on my lap like this if I had a secret husband?”

“No,” Ren said. “I’d be covered in his blood then, and you’d be fucking me like that.”

Hux kissed him then, grabbing his arse to pull him closer, deeper.

Ren moaned into his mouth, and Hux kept kneading his firm cheeks, pulling them apart so he could rub his clothed cock between them. The linen of his pants burnt his irritated skin, but there was something delightfully crude in the pain. He nibbled on Ren’s full lips, then went for his exposed throat, biting down so hard it bruised. He started sucking at the abused skin as he was working up a punishing pace. He was certain his pants would simply burst open as Ren started riding him in earnest, getting hold of his bony shoulders.

“The cat,” Ren grunted as Hux pushed his index finger into him.

“Not my problem,” he panted as he crooked his finger. Ren hissed, throwing his head back, and the air pulsed around him; the crackling of the fire and the drumming of the rain turned into static.

Millicent hopped to her paws, abandoning the socks, and headed to the refresher. Hux glanced after her, not knowing how to feel about his pet getting brainwashed in front of his eyes.

Ren pulled off his sweater, and began undressing Hux with keen hurry. He groaned when he realised he had to crawl off him to take off his boots and pants. He knelt before Hux, kissing the exposed skin, and Hux watched him worshipping his skinny legs with his head tilted. Ren kissed his ankle, and sucked on his toes one by one, making his way up with broad licks of his tongue. When he reached his thigh, he rest his cheek against it, and looked around the suite. Hux started petting his hair, and Ren announced:

“In front of the fireplace. From behind. All fours.”

“Show me.”

“I kinda expected you to assist?”

Hux let Ren’s locks fall from his fingers, and Ren got to his feet, reluctantly. He approached the fireplace, erect cock bobbing, and he stroked it before he’d kneel down to the white grov fur. He arched his back, putting his ass on display as he slid a finger in.

“Like that,” Hux nodded. “You’re doing great.”

“Hux,” Ren pleaded as he started fucking himself open on his finger.

“Ask nicely. How did you enjoy this year without me?”

“Colonel, please, please just fuck me, I need your dick inside of me, okay? I need it.”

Hux got a jar of lotion from the nearby table, and kicked it towards Ren, smirking. Ren pulled it to him with the Force, and Hux started touching himself as he watched Ren slicking up just for him, fingers in and out and in.

 

What happened afterwards was entirely uncivilised.

 

He was resting his head on Ren’s chest, still tangled up with him in front of the fireplace. The floor was shockingly cold against his skin compared to Ren’s heat and the fur’s softness. The chill was creeping up his long legs, but he couldn’t muster the energy to curl up or move away. Ren was hugging him with both hands, face buried in Hux’s hair. The belt of Hux’s gown was still around his neck; Hux used it to choke him as they were rutting like savages. Hux glanced around. Ren didn’t break anything, but most of the furniture had been pushed back by a good inch thanks to his Force outbreaks.

Hux traced a swelling wound on Ren’s chest with his nails, idly, letting Ren’s scent and the smell of sex lull him. He closed his eyes, focusing on the numb pain in his limbs, the burn of his knees and that wretched, content emptiness in his stomach which followed his orgasm. Ren was caressing his back, and Hux arched into his touch, drifting slowly to sleep. Warm at last.

 

Happy.

 

Safe.

 

Loved.

 

He woke up with a start. His chest was heaving, and it took him a while to realise that he was on Arkanis, and everything was okay. He was lying on his back, blinking up at the ceiling, with Millicent curled over his chest. He put his palm over her belly to feel something alive, something real.

“Hey there,” he whispered.

“Pruff.”

He didn’t dare to turn around. He reached out with his legs; Ren wasn’t there. He shouldn’t be lying here either, he was supposed to be dozing in front of the fireplace, all cozy. He could feel the softness of the covers on his skin, which meant that he was still naked. His blaster was under his pillow, as usual, along the crystals.

And it was still raining.

He squinted around. A cup of caf was waiting for him on the nightstand, surrounded by protein bar wrappings. The air was fragrant, specks of dust dancing in the dull rays of light. Hux could see a faint blue glow from the corner of his eyes, and he turned towards it.

Ren was sitting on the floor cross-legged, wearing briefs and Hux’s dressing gown. There were stars projected around him, a portion of a map. His eyes were open, palms resting on his knees.

“Good morning,” Hux greeted him. He didn’t get a reply. He was tempted to throw a pillow at him, just to test his hypothesis that Ren was in some kind of trance. It wasn’t worth the effort, though. Ren’s unblinking, vacant gaze made him slightly uneasy. Maybe it was the aftertaste of his half-remembered nightmare, in which a stormtrooper turned out to be a Jedi and he had a beard like his fucking father.

He reached for his mug, and scowled as he sipped from it. It was bitter. He drank it anyway, he needed the caffeine. Once he was quite finished, he resumed petting Millicent and watching Ren. His hair was wet. The gown was open over his chest, showing off his bruises and the claw marks Hux left, the impression of the DIY choke collar still visible. How much time has passed? Shouldn’t they be faded by now?

Hux let out a soft sigh, and rubbed his eyes with his wrists. It was the day of the gala. He needed a strategy. It was supposed to be his grand return to high society. Bringing Ren along was risky, but going single would be even worse, an insult to the host. He hoped that Ren wouldn’t make a scene. The fact that confirmed bachelor A. Hux would invite such a gorgeous foreigner will provide enough material for the tattletales as it is. A certain amount of scandal was expected of him, but he didn’t want to go overboard.

The mattress creaked. He looked up; Ren seated himself on the edge of the bed, and after brief consideration curled up next to Hux. Stars. His haircut alone will be the topic of conversation for the entire season.

“Did you carry me here in your arms,” he asked, voice rough, “or did you just hover me over with the Force? Don’t answer.”

“Did you sleep well?”

“When did _you_ sleep?”

“Aw, you’re worried for my well-being?”

Hux rolled his eyes. Ren nuzzled to his shoulder, and Hux let him kiss his collarbone.

“That’s my dressing gown.”

“Mmm.”

“Which system is this?”

“Huh?”

“On the map. I don’t recognise it.”

“Ah?” Ren indicated the stars with his leg. “Luke Skywalker is there, somewhere.”

“So,” Hux asked, spreading his fingers over Ren’s back, “you can feel his presence from such distance?”

“No, I, he’s hiding. I was looking for traces, and then talked to Master Snoke.”

Hux flinched. Millicent has had enough of being ignored, and crawled over to Ren.

“Any news?”

“Nothing much.”

“So you just what, had a chat, huh?”

Ren pulled Millicent close, and buried his nose into her belly, then looked up at Hux.

“We were talking about my training. He was lecturing me; in the good sense, I guess, but… It wasn’t always like this. We used to have conversations. A voice in my head, the same age as I was, I- couldn’t even distinguish it from my inner voice, you know, the voice which says “it’s okay” when something goes horribly wrong.”

Hux slid his fingers under Ren’s chin, forcing him to look at him. Millicent used the opportunity to sprint away.

“What happened?”

“His voice got older. Stranger. It was no longer a part of my consciousness, he was an outsider, and he was no longer listening to me, it was my turn to do that, he told me. He was guiding me. He used to be with me always. He created me. Everything I have, I have because of him. First, he was like an imaginary friend, and then he was like a god… Yes, like a god.”

“Would you miss him?” Hux inquired, voice flat. Ren smiled at him.

“He defeated death, Hux. He figured out how to do it. He knows your plan, but keeps you close anyway. Maybe he wants to die. I don’t know. I never know what he’s up to. He’s very wise, and um, maybe a bit unpredictable. I wish he’d share his wisdom with me. I feel so stupid talking with him. He makes me feel stupid.”

“Do you want him gone?”

“I’d be nothing without him. I’m unstable, I’m unbalanced. He’ll fix me. He knows how to do it.”

“What would you do if he wanted me dead?”

“No,” Ren objected. “He wouldn’t want that. You have your role to play.”

“And what happens when that role is fulfilled? What happens when you fulfill yours?”

Ren snorted.

“The Ren feeds him lifeforce, we take care of him, we nurse him. He’ll always need us, and as he gets older and older, he’ll just need us more.

 _"The_ Ren?”

“Yeah? You do know that we’re called the Knights of Ren, right? That’s a rank.”

“Not your surname?”

“Why would it be? Don’t do this to me, I’ve been calling you Colonel because I figured it was a thing.”

“I - damn. Damn, it’s embarrassing. Sorry.”

Ren laughed, surprised and breathless, his eyes darting between Hux’s eyes and his lips.

“Don’t be sorry, I like it when you call me Ren. It reminds me where do I belong.”

“You belong to me,” Hux blurted out. He didn’t mean it romantically, it was more like a declaration of possession, but Ren got really excited and kissed him.

Hux went with it, rolling to his back and pulling Ren over him. Ren nestled between his open thighs, and kissed him again and again, the taste of fresh caf lingering on their tongues. The sheets started to feel too warm and heavy, and Hux was delighting in it, drowning on Ren’s lips as the bed engulfed them. Ren gripped his wrists and pinned them down over his head; in the process, he crumpled up the pillow.

Then he froze.

“Wait.”

“It just started to get exciting.”

Ren let go of him, and straddling his hips, he picked up a crystal. He held it up to the dim light, and turned back to Hux.

“You’ve been keeping these under your pillows?” he asked, color draining from his face.

Hux propped himself on his elbows, frowning.

“Where was I supposed to put them?”

“This one’s damaged. Don’t you have um, weird dreams?”

“My dreams are perfectly ordinary nonsense, thank you very much.”

The crystal was floating over Ren’s palm.

“I should start transforming them.”

“It seems that Snoke will only tolerate our collaboration as long as we don’t start building weapons together.”

“I think he wants us to work together, actually.” Ren closed his hand over the crystal. Red light beamed between his fingers. “And even if that wasn’t the case, you were right; I belong to you. I want everything I have to be yours as well, my power, my body, everything. I don’t care what anyone has to say about it.” He repeated: “I don’t care.”

 

Hux, for his part, did care about the opinion of others The last fragments of lights were gone, and he was scrutinizing himself in the mirror. His dress uniform was impeccable: the colonel’s blue with golden shoulder boards and actual _buttons_ , two rows of them, his rank insignia plaque polished. The short cape thrown over one shoulder was his idea, a small tribute to the legendary fashion sense of Director Krennic. He was still trying to get his head around the fact that he was standing in front of the same mirror he used, working in the same armchair he preferred, fucking Ren on the same - anyway. His cheeks were freshly shaven, his hair neatly combed back, and as he checked how the lights caught on his boots, he murmured:

“Colonel Hux. Indeed, pretty young for a colonel. My secret, sir? Why, there are people who actually achieve their dreams, and if you’re not one of us, that’s your fault, not mine. Have you tried the wine?”

Millicent was busy murdering the curtain tassels, and Ren had barricaded himself in the refresher.

Hux closed his eyes, and took a deep breath, counting to ten. When he peered up, he caught a glimpse of Ren’s reflection.

He turned on his heels, slowly.

The suite was illuminated by nothing but the flames. Ren looked like a vision in the soft glow of the fire. He was wearing a delicate veil with a rich trim, coming down to the tip of his nose in a triangle shape. The dark robe was a modest design, but the golden belt was anything but; it looked like lace, hugging his slim waist. He painted his lips and the tips of his fingers black. Grinning, he spun: the robe was cut very low on his back, exposing the scarred skin and the great expanse of his shoulders; the veil floated around, and Ren asked:

“See something you like?”  

Hux discovered that the pants of his dress uniform were a bit too tight. He swallowed.

 

“Colonel Armitage Hux and his partner,” the protocol droid doubling as a butler announced them.

“Oh, you shouldn’t have,” Ren purred into Hux’s ear.

“I wasn’t going to proclaim from the rooftops that my plus one is the Jedikiller.”

“Jedikiller sounds kinda awesome, though,” Ren mused.  “Just think of it, you could be Mr. Armitage Jedikiller.”

“I’m divorcing you.”

“Don’t be like that, honey, think of the children.”

The gala was held at Major Pat Pennelegion’s former residence, which, just like Nasturtium Fair, was deprivatised shortly after the Empire fell. Hux never actually lived in his ancestor’s mansion, but his father would take him there often to show him what they’ve lost. He could walk the cold corridors with his eyes closed, he could still hear the flapping of the white covers over the furniture, he remembered the flickering holos of two hundred years worth of Huxes. He promised his father he’d get it back one day, one glorious day.    

Nasturtium Fair was rotting away on a hilltop, its famous, lush garden flooded. Hux believed its was still better off than the Pennelegion chateau, which was turned into a museum of contemporary art.

Hux did love contemporary art, its simple lines and full forms, the sculptures made of light and the drawings made of noise, but he found the Garnib crystals currently on display boring. The artists tried their damnedest to make the heavy stone look light as a breath of air, and they kinda succeeded, but Hux thought it was a waste of energy. They should’ve worked with a lighter material in the first place.

The guests were drinking champagne around the luminous little tables, some of them strolling through the hall in search of old acquaintances, most of them standing by the tall windows, eyeing the downpour with visible disgust. The sculptures cast an otherworldly light over the luxurious bouquets of fresh flowers and the droids floating around with full trays. A band played quenk jazz, which was quite pleasant. It was all quite pleasant, a valiant attempt to bring back the golden years of the Empire. There was anticipation in the air, knowing looks shared, glasses clinking together: “to the First Order!”  

Hux was ambushed by a legion of Unwinshaws, Altringaxes and Forthergilles, who couldn’t believe their eyes that he returned a colonel. They unabashedly stared at Ren who, in a surprising turn of events, was behaving himself. The arrogant twist of his dark lips could pass as a polite smile, and his mysterious veils started the gossip that he was foreign royalty pledging allegiance to the Order (and they weren’t wrong about that, actually.) Ren was treated with careful civility, and Hux with surprised and slightly offended respect.

Every time someone mentioned his father, he took a sip of his drink.

Fifteen minutes into the evening he was dizzy and tipsy.

“A colonel, at such a young age!” Sergeant Cedrin Kerr clasped his hands. “Your father would be so proud! What’s your secret?”

“Please excuse us for a moment,” Hux bowed, ushering Ren away as fast as he could, but not fast enough. Ren developed a mean little habit of chatting up everyone who annoyed Hux, merely to spite him, and he was at it again:

“Before we go, I must ask: Sergeant Kerr, what happened to your leg?”

So Hux had to linger, and listen to the unabridged sobstory of the limping sergeant’s accident with a hostile escalator. Ren nodded along, noticeably bored, so Hux had to muster up some empathy on behalf of both of them.

“I wish you a speedy recovery,” he interrupted after three torturous minutes. “You _must_ let us know the doctor’s opinion some other time -”

“Doctor, hah!” Sergeant Kerr exclaimed. “There are no doctors anymore, just those darned droids everywhere, they don’t have a speck of humanity in them, you dislocate your ankle and they want to chop it off, I’m telling you.”

“How exciting,” Ren remarked, and Hux bit on his lips, looking around for an acquaintance to save them, then he muttered:

“Phasma?”

He grabbed Ren’s elbow, excused himself a bit too firmly, and headed towards the captain. She was just entering the hall, hand in hand with a petite woman. When she noticed Hux, she stood at attention, and saluted him promptly.

She was wearing a silver gray dress uniform with bright red lipstick. Hux hardly recognised her.  

“Sir!”

“At ease.” He kissed the hand of her partner. “Ma’am.”

“Let me introduce my fiancée, Ommatea Flembek.”

Ommatea was around forty, dressed in a purple evening gown, her skin olive and her hair down.

“Colonel Hux, pleasure to meet you.”

“Oh, the pleasure is all mine.”

Phasma offered her hand for Ren to shake.

“We haven’t met yet, I’m Captain Phasma.”

“We’ve met, I’m Kylo Ren.”

Phasma’s hand froze mid-air, jaw dropping quite literally. Hux turned to Ommatea, and clearing his throat, he asked a bit too loudly:

“What do you do?”

“Well, I’m teaching astrophysics, and erhm, I’m currently researching the power-handling capability of dark matter.”

“That’s why your name sounded so familiar, then: I’ve read the abstract of your dissertation on Science First. Your style is quite captivating, even for a layman.”

Ommatea smiled smugly.

“You’re hardly a layman.”

Phasma came back to herself, and joined the conversation, cheeks flushed:

“It’s a small world!”

“I don’t think it’s an accident, actually: the Huxes are from Northern Arkanis, if I’m not mistaken.”

“You’re perfectly right, Dr. Flembek. Are you from here as well, then?”

“Born and bred, yeah.”

“I’ve never seen you around here before, sir!” Phasma beamed.  

Ren stepped to Hux, wrapping his arm around his waist casually. Hux let him, remarking:

“I must confess, Captain, if you’re here and I’m here as well, I’m afraid it means that all adept personnel have left the base.”

All four of them chuckled, then fell silent. Phasma leant to her fiancée, whispering:

“Colonel Hux called me adept!”

“I’m very proud of you, baby.”

“When will you return to us, sir?” Phasma turned back to him, sparing a fleeting glance to Ren. Hux wondered whether she bet her credits that Ren was a hairy Bothan hiding under that helmet, or that he was a battle droid.

“Soon, I hope; I’m on leave with um, dear Kylo.”

“Mittens is showing me around,” Ren deadpanned, and before Hux could murder him, Ommatea said:

“Same; unfortunately, you can’t really see the planet from all the rain.”

“I was a bit startled,” Phasma nodded. “Not by the rain, by being sent on leave. I was in the middle of something and they were just like, hey, why don’t you go to a little vacation?”

Ommatea rubbed Phasma’s back, shaking her head.

“She was terrified she’d be discharged.”

“That’d be strategical suicide. I’ve meant what I said, Captain Phasma is an outstanding officer.”

“Thank you, sir; could you please repeat it a tad more loudly so they hear it at base?”

They chuckled again, except for Ren, who was bored again. He leant to Hux’s shoulder in his agony, pouting, looking around the hall, probably in search of more annoying people. Phasma still couldn’t quite look at him, but Ommatea saved their skins from further social unease by asking:

“Would you like to join us for a dance, gentlemen?”

Hux raised his hand to politely wave away the request, but Ren used the gesture to intertwine their fingers.

“May I?”

“What are they playing?”

“The Perihelion lancers quadrille, sir,” Phasma answered, and Hux arched an eyebrow at Ren.

“Up to the challenge, Kylo?”

Ren pulled him towards the dance floor with a cocky smirk. The women trailed behind them, and Phasma mouthed:

“He’s the Knight I told you about.”

“Him? Nah-ah.”

“Right?!”

Ten or twelve couples of four took their places. Ommatea looked around once they formed a circle, craning her neck, and muttered:

“Splendid. Got lost in a kriffing forest.”

The first beats of the slow song pulsed, deep, melodic. The singer swayed in place, grabbing her skirt, eyes downcast. Phasma pulled Ommeta close, and they looked at each other like there was nothing else in the whole galaxy but them. Hux laid his palm over the small of Ren’s back, taking his hand in his.

_“Must you act like a prat?”_

_“Must you put on airs?”_

_“That’s how society_ works _, Ren.”_

The first steps were sweeping, spirited. Hux was leading; Ren tried to take over, and missed a beat.

_“Have you even danced lancers before?”_

_“I can read the choreography from the minds of basically everybody here.”_

Hux glanced at him. Stars, did Ren look gorgeous.

_“You aren’t supposed to look at your partner, Colonel.”_

_“Shut it.”_ _  
_

They halted, facing Phasma and Ommeta; they sashayed to the left, and them to the right, stepping into a line, then switched partners and went on their merry way. Hux was leading Ommatea, so he had to hunch his shoulders a bit.

“My condolences,” Ommatea said, and Hux side-eyed Ren, but Ommatea went on: “I was very shaken by the news of your father’s death. He was quite young, wasn’t he? I didn’t know him well, he invited me to give a guest lecture at the Academy. He was intelligent, companionable and level-headed.”

“Yes,” Hux nodded. “He was.”

“Just think about it - most people in this room owe gratitude to his school.”

Hux looked around over Ommatea’s shoulder: they were surrounded by young officers of the First Order and veterans of the Imperial Army, swaying to the music, chatting over champagne. Everybody over thirty likely attended Brendol Hux’s programme - his methods were applied basically everywhere. These people here, they’re the ones who survived. Nobody talked about those who weren’t lucky enough or canny enough. Ommatea probably didn’t even know they existed.

“What I mean to say is - you remind me of him. My fiancée looks up to you. We all look up to you. Maybe you don’t even notice, but your presence affects everyone in the room.” She squinted at him. “You proved them wrong, didn’t you? You _are_ his son. Colonel Armitage Hux walks in here, and everybody straightens up, dancing like they were performing. You’re the shining star of the First Order. Our hope. Looking at you, I think… yes, we’ve got so much to hope for.”

Hux bowed his head, and led her back to the square, where the four of them raised their hands to the middle, only their fingertips touching as they promenaded around. Ren was watching him in the ethereal lights of crystals.

He didn’t feel like the Hux Ommatea hoped him to be and Phasma believed him to be. He wasn’t his father’s son; he was more; he used to be. He’s been away for far too long, far too involved in trivialities, far--

Ren dropped to one knee as the drums boomed. Hux touched his fingertips to his, and walked around him, Phasma and Ommatea mirroring them.

As Ren got to his feet, Hux pulled him closer more passionately than entirely necessary, clawing at the exposed skin of his back. He wanted to let himself have this, this one thing, even if it was not even close to perfect, even if it was a bad idea.

They should’ve met earlier.

They’d have more time, then.

 

After the dance, Ren and him went to get refreshments. Hux realised that he only loved humanity as an abstract concept. He would free them from the vile regime of the Republic any day, no question, but if anyone from the species wanted just _one more_ word with him, he might start to scream.

Phasma and Ommatea could no longer shield them from the attack of acquaintances. Ommatea was under siege by the mother of one of her students, and Hux strategically retreated. Now he had the pleasure of pretending to listen to Royston Munt’s attempt at talking politics.

He wanted two things, and two things only.

One: to drop to his knees on the frozen ground of Starkiller base, bow down, kiss it, and promise to never ever leave.

Two, more feasible: to go back to the hotel and huddle with Ren and Millicent.  

It’ll be so odd, not sharing a room with Ren anymore. He’ll miss his mess, maybe, he’ll miss scolding him for eating in bed, that they will no longer train together or have spontaneous sex. He liked looking at the holorecord of wookie poetry Ren kept on his nightstand, he liked watching Millicent napping in Ren’s helmet.

It didn’t last for long, and it wasn’t over yet, but they were wasting that little time they had to spend together. Everything will return to normal: Ren will keep disappearing and he’ll keep working on Starkiller base, and they’ll collide from time to time then drift apart. They won’t be able to afford the luxury of being… irresponsible, not ever again.  

“Mmm,” Ren said, and Hux added:

“Uh-hum.”

And Royton Munt went on:

“She aged so badly, and so suddenly! Such a shame, she used to be quite the beauty, eh? I mean, those scornful little lips, they give you-”

Cedrin Kerr interrupted:

“Excuse me, but Leia Organa is much more than a beauty.”

Hux realised that they were apparently deep into discussing the looks of Ren’s mother. He glanced at him. He was leaning to the table, nursing some fruit shake, zoned out completely.

“Hmm,” he hummed.

“I can remember it” Sergeant Kerr said “like it was yesterday. She was walking towards us, a DH-17 in her right, her brother’s lightsaber in her left. She was already pregnant then. We looked at her, and shit our pants. “Quite a beauty?” Please. That woman was the superweapon of the Rebels.”

“That was Darth Vader,” Royton muttered, blowing at a stray lock which fell over his face. Ren raised his head, slowly.

“What did you say?”

“We could just leave the New Republic to their own devices,” Sergeant Kerr explained, agitated. “Those bastards do everything for their own ruin! They don’t listen to a Leia Organa, or a Caluan Ematt, and believe it or not, they don’t listen to Gial Ackbar who’s been telling them that it’s-”

“What did you mean when you said” Ren raised his voice, “that Darth Vader was the superweapon of the Rebels?”

Some heads turned towards them, then, following suit, half the hall was watching as Ren towered over the robust Royton Munt. Royton looked at him up and down, appalled, then he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Vader was the reason we fell. Don’t tell me that he wasn’t working for the Rebels all along, I know better. Vader… Vaderzkids… Khm… Heeeuh. Heh waz aaa spppy and uhhh…”

“A traitor?” Ren guessed, tone almost cheerful. Royton doubled over, punching his heaving chest.  The last accords of the music plunked.

“Roy?” someone squeaked. His eyes were bulging out, and he wobbled back, staring at Ren.  

Ren reached out with his fingers, painted black.

Royton clutched his neck.

Then he was being lifted up. The toes of his boots were still touching the ground when one of the guests started screaming hysterically.

All eyes were on Ren and his victim.

“Darth Vader” Ren said “didn’t let the Light win.”

There was a loud _crunch_.

Hux closed his eyes as the crowd gasped. He heard something heavy drop to the ground, he heard the guests shuffling back. And then there was nothing but silence.

Hux looked up.

Ren was standing over Royton’s twisted body, shoulders hunched. He stepped forward, boots sinking into the soft flesh of Royton’s stomach. He trod over him, veils whispering, his chin up and his black lips grim.

Someone said:

“Vader.”

Then they knelt down, one by one, noiseless.

Ren looked over his shoulder. Hux could feel everybody turning to him as he headed to Ren, sidestepping Royton’s body. He accepted Ren’s outstretched hand, intertwining their fingers. His palms were sweaty; Ren was cold and dry to the touch. His heart was beating in his throat as they walked away.

The lights were blinding him.

He walked hand in hand with Ren, and everyone knelt for them.

 

They strolled through the empty corridor without a word. Hux fancied he could see more clearly, like in shock, when everything comes to pinpoint focus.

“Will you send me away?”

He glanced at Ren. The man pushed off his veil.

“Will you?” he demanded. His eyes were wide with fear. “I know I’ve killed someone belonging to the Order, but he wasn’t even a soldier. Let me stay at the hotel at least. I’ll get my own room. I won’t bother you, I promise, but I need you to be near me, I can’t do this without you, the noise in my head is just so _loud_ -”

Hux stopped, and placed his palm over Ren’s chest. He looked him in the eye. Then he pushed him back.

Ren’s back hit a door as Hux kissed him with teeth clashing together, stealing his breath away. He closed his fingers around Ren’s neck, gripping his throat like he wanted to rip it out. Ren’s lips opened to a soundless moan, grabbing a handful of Hux’s uniform.

The door hissed open behind them, as if on its own accord, and they stumbled into a gallery, nightlights burning blue. Hux pushed Ren to the nearest wall. He nearly knocked over some pictures.

“I need you to fuck me,” he panted.

“Are you sure?” Ren asked, and Hux just nodded, his vision swimming. “Okay, umm. Great. Oh shit. Stand still, maybe?”

“Don’t freak out.”

“I’m not freaking out,” Ren said, freaking out. He grasped Hux’s shoulders, and shoved him down. His knees hit the ground.

“So that’s how you-”

“I’ve got a surprise for you.”

“Let me guess, your cock?”

“Besides my cock. Literally.”

Hux frowned at him, pushing up his robe slowly, slowly. Ren’s breath hitched.

“You look so good like this, Hux, your eyes. Look at me, keep looking at me. We’re doing this.”

His reached his briefs, or where they were supposed to be - he was touching lace. He blinked, eyebrows knit.

“You’ve got panties on?”

“So?”

“How do you - Oh.” His erection was straining the silky fabric, and Hux couldn’t resist burying his face between his thick thighs. Ren grunted as Hux flicked his tongue out to lap at his cock. It tasted salty and it smelled amazing, musky and heavy, and Hux gripped the waistband to push the panties down. That’s when he discovered that Ren tucked a small pack of lube there. “Look at you,” Hux whispered as he glanced up at him.

“I’m learning,” Ren told him.

“You’re so good. You have to be really good to get to fuck me, you know that, huh?”

“Stand up. If you start sucking me off, I won’t last.”

“Maybe some other time, then,” Hux noted, and  nuzzled back to Ren’s cock, his hot breath ghosting over it as he licked the tip. “I can’t wait for you to put it in me, you’re so big.” He nudged it with his nose.

Ren reached down and grabbed his hair, starting to pull him up. Hux almost lost his balance, then let Ren shove him up against the cold wall.

“Don’t tease,” Ren gritted. Hux’s scalp was burning. He watched with hooded eyes as Ren opened his belt for him and pushed his pants down, only to discover that he should’ve discard of the boots first. He grunted, and hoisted up Hux’s leg to tug it off.

“I’m not that flexible.”

“You’re very flexible,” Ren muttered. “Give me the other one. Like that. Remember the closet with the trays?”

“I’m certainly not that-”

“I could lift you up.”

“Yes. Do that.”

“Okay.”

Hux’s pants fell to the ground in a sorry heap, and Ren turned him around to open him up. He rested his forehead against the wall, still hearing that _crunch_ in his head as Ren’s fingers eased into him, fingers which could kill with a wave.

 

They could hear the guests leaving as Ren started fucking him. They were facing each other again, Hux clinging to Ren who was still mostly dressed, makeup smeared, dark saliva dripping down his chin after sloppy kisses.

He was tearing Hux open with his cock. He tried not to cry out, dry gasps escaping his parted lips, trembling fingers clawing at the finery of Ren’s robe.

“More, give me more, you must - fuck, fuck, fuck!”

The burning pain was good, so good, and Ren still hasn’t bottomed out, slipping into him inch by inch, whispering:

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you.”

“Move, come on, come on, I - _ah!_ ”

His laboured breath sounded so loud over the clamour of people passing by the door, and the slapping sounds of flesh on flesh seemed to fill everything. Ren started pounding in and out with fast, rapid thrusts. Hux threw his head back. His eyes watered, and he couldn’t keep his moans in anymore as Ren was ripping him apart. He clawed Ren’s shoulders raw, and at a certain point, they dropped to the ground.

 

They finished there, Hux laid out like a common whore, his dress jacket open, chest flushed red. His orgasm was more relieving than satisfying. Still catching his breath, he was stroking Ren’s hair; he couldn’t stop touching him. He was being crushed under his weight, but it felt nice. Comforting. Ren shifted a bit, and buried his face into Hux’s shoulder.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

“For what?”

“It was like five minutes.”

“That’s quite alright.”

“And I hurt you.”

“I wanted you to.”

“Can you walk?”

Hux thought about it.

“No. I don’t think so.”  

 

Problem is, he had to. Half an hour later they were on board of a GPE-7300 space transform, alongside Phasma. They looked more or less presentable. The Force was involved. Also, Ren’s clever tongue, licking the come off Hux’s stomach. He barely started buttoning his pants when his comm buzzed with a message. They’ve been summoned.

The GPE was waiting for them in the Pennelegion hangar, piloted by a mysterious First Order personnel who introduced himself as Killric Yar. Hux never heard of him. They took their seats, awkwardly out of place in all their finery. For a while, there was nothing but the soft purr of the engines and Killric whistling, then Phasma cleared her throat.

“So. _Are_ you Vader come back to life?”

“Kinda. In a sense.”

“Okay.”

“Not technically,” Hux corrected him, and Phasma nodded.

“I see, sir.”

They broke atmosphere. Hux’s mind was racing. Why would Snoke want all three of them present? Did he arrange it? Probably.

 _We’re the strongest links_ , he thought. _We’re the chain curling around his throat_.

He swallowed, hard, and looked around for an exit, as if jumping out of the airlock could help him. Maybe it was better than facing Snoke’s fury.  _What’s gonna happen to Millicent? What of Starkiller? What of Ren? He’s loyal, for fuck’s sake, too loyal for his own good_ -

He glanced at Ren. Could he see the future, for better or worse? A large shadow was cast over them, and as the lights on the control panel flared up, he scolded himself, _keep calm and concentrate. You can figure it out_. _You always did._ Ren seized his hand, and Phasma muttered something like “sweet stars” as she looked up.

They’ll have a show trial, surely. It’ll give them enough time to-

Ren was grasping his fingers with so much force that Hux frowned, the sharp pain bringing him back to his senses. He turned to Ren, but he wasn’t looking at him. Hux followed the line of his awed gaze, and then his eyes widened.

“Oh my.”

“Sweet stars,” Phasma repeated.

A gigantic star destroyer was above them, obscuring space, queenly and stunning. It was the most beautiful thing Hux has ever seen. He gripped Ren’s hand like his life was depending on it, blinking rapidly. Killric Yar turned in his seat.

“Dear passengers,” he said, “meet the _Finalizer_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As my relentless beta, [gingercaf](http://gingercaf.tumblr.com/) put it: "General Hux: coming soon to a system near you" - buckle up for chapter 6! 
> 
> *softly* _I just have so many headcanons_
> 
> Find me on tumblr: [longstoryshortikilledhim](http://longstoryshortikilledhim.tumblr.com/) // [moodboard](http://longstoryshortikilledhim.tumblr.com/post/149761745416/psychom%E1%90%83chi%E1%90%83-updated-by-the-time-the-events-of) with a cute kitten & half naked guys, what's not to like
> 
> The battle droid rumour Hux is referring to is a subtle nod to Cylin's [Battle Ren AU](http://cylin-aka-ankamo.tumblr.com/BattleREN-AU)


	6. Chapter 6

The _Finalizer_ was like all of Hux’s ambitions cast in durasteel; nearly three thousand meters of unbending professionalism and naked power, the pride and joy of the First Order. He held his trembling breath when he  boarded it for the first time ever, still clutching Ren’s hand.  

Killric Yar was guiding their astonished little group around with considerable patience. They stopped to marvel at every square centimeter they could lay their eyes upon until they were ushered to a transport vehicle. Ren was pacing over its length, veils floating gracefully, and  Phasma turned around and around, trying to comprehend the mere size of the star destroyer. For his part, Hux had to get hold of the railing, going weak at the knees.

“We’re just above the primary hypermatter-annihilation reactor now,” Killric announced, voice clear and articulated. “It’s a III-a1a model, economic, up-to-date, with minimized gas leak, or so they tell me.”

“Could we have a look at it?” Hux asked, and Killric bowed his head with a well practiced smile.

“If you wish, Colonel, it could certainly be arranged after the official tour is over.”

An infinite expanse of vacuum-black space passed them with red and blue lights glowing like nebulas. The gray of the walls reminded Hux of rainclouds, a home away from home. He was feeling lightheaded, dazed by the smell of disinfectant. Everything was still wrapped in plastic cover sheets, everything was untouched.

“She’s so beautiful,” Phasma sighed. “Look at you baby girl, aren’t you gorgeous?”

“Could you brief me on the crew, please?” Hux turned to Killric, who let out a low whistle.

“All I know is that it’s gonna be _massive_ once we’re fully operational,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m talking about 55,000 enlisted personnel, over 19,000 officers, above 8000 hand-selected troopers, and the number of the droids needed is not even estimated yet.”

“How about the commanders?” 

Killric just winked at him, which made Hux uncomfortable enough not to inquire further. Ren’s come was sluggishly dripping down his thighs under the dress uniform, which was one of the many, many reasons they should’ve used a condom. He walked a bit too stiffly once they disembarked the transport, still overwhelmed and well fucked out. Ren put a reassuring hand on the small of his back, and the door leading to the commander’s bridge hissed open.

The hustle and bustle going on pleasantly surprised Hux. Figures flashed on the screens, illuminating the determined faces of the crew members. He kept looking around for the lucky bugger of a general who would command them and whom he’d envy until his dying breath, but he couldn’t see anyone above his rank. It made him feel weird.

“Please, come this way,” Killric said. Ren’s hand brushed over his back again, and he whispered:

“What is it?”

Ren mouthed:

“He’s waiting.”

A holo of a tall, haggard figure was facing the viewports. It didn’t turn around when Killric saluted him and Ren knelt down, bowing his head.

“Master.”

 

Hux was standing in the same spot Snoke’s holo welcomed them a few weeks back. His greatcoat was hanging heavily on his shoulders. Snoke gave him the ship, and took Ren away. It should’ve felt like fair deal, and yet.

Hux turned his back to the viewport, and Pavish assistant section leader snatched the opportunity to push a datapad under his nose. It displayed an equipment resupply request of network traffic control under permitting obligation. And Hux read through the whole thing.  

The characters bled into each other. Although dividing the working hours to six four-hour shifts between three sections was his idea in the first place, he preferred working a full shift with each of them, and then throwing in an extra shift wherever it was needed. He still had eight hours to eat, sleep and exercise, which was reasonable, although he spent the majority of those hours revising his work, because there was just a _lot_ of it. His eyes burnt and ached, but he could still understand the displayed text, and that was what mattered. The network traffic control wanted to order a new TeleSonic audio pickup  from Neuro-Saav for 750 credits.

“If the audio pickup was damaged, I can’t permit you a resupply, I’m afraid; you need to fill in an equipment damage report form.”

“It wasn’t damaged, sir. According to inventory control, we should’ve received sixteen, but there’s only fifteen. We cross-checked it already.”

Hux frowned at the datapad. It was the maiden voyage of the _Finalizer_. He was still scrubbing pieces of the protective film off his personal control panel, and he had to hack himself into his ‘fresher, and time and time again, he was faced by shortcomings such as this. There wasn’t enough TeleSonic audio pickups. They only had fifty atmospheric assault landers. And there was no Ren.

“It’d take approximately seven cycles to order the 750 model, it’s above the quota; on the other hand, the 450 model could _arrive_ within five cycles. Whichever suits your needs best.”

Pavish looked at him expectantly, but Hux merely handed the datapad back.

“It’s up to you.”

It was becoming his motto. He noticed that his crew loved to make decisions, but they didn’t know they were _allowed_ to. Pavish positively beamed at him.

“The 750 model would be the best, sir!” she said with a glint in her eyes, and Hux nodded.

“I’ll see to it personally that you get it. Dismissed.”

Pavish saluted him, and went on her way with confident strides.

 

Hux, _unlike some_ , didn’t establish power by the pose of always knowing better. He placed his trust in his men, and he made a point of asking for their opinion before he’d make a decision. It slowed down the process, but the result was always better.

He didn’t believe in keeping distance. He was always available for them, which meant that literally everyone was pestering him, and not their superiors or project managers who were actually assigned to deal with their requests. Hux didn’t mind it. Phasma joked that if it was up to him, he’d do the work of the whole crew, running the ship just on his own. Hux laughed, but it sounded forced.

The crew returned his trust and his obsessive enthusiasm. After a short adjustment period, they no longer tried to cover up their fuckups. As soon as something went wrong, they called for the General, who’d roll up his sleeves and See To It Personally.

Everyone knew their places, and thanks to Hux, they were willing to work together. He made them take pride in their jobs, and the interns would feel just as appreciated as the officers.

He crossed the bridge, and no one stopped working to greet him. They were used to his presence, and that’s precisely what he wanted. He was an invisible, constant force, just like gravity on better planets.

General Hux. It still sounded strange sometimes. Snoke wanted to gratify him. It probably escaped his attention that it wasn’t some gracious gift: Hux did deserve the rank, he just never thought he’d receive it so early. Phasma politely declined to be promoted. She wanted to stay with her troopers. To Hux’s best knowledge, Ren wasn’t given a flashy new title or anything. He knelt at the feet of his Master’s holo in his splendid clothes, the delicate veil over his face, battle-torn back exposed, and Hux was watching him, realising that Snoke would never give his best warrior to him. So he was a general of the First Order’s army; so he was commanding its flagship; but why would he settle for less than everything he could have? He didn’t just want Ren. He needed him.

 

“General, an Upsilon-class shuttle is attempting unsanctioned docking at bay two.”

Hux closed his eyes for a moment, then answered the comm.

“He doesn’t need permission.”

Ren came back after three long months; _he returned home_ , Hux thought, knowing full well that the logic behind the sentiment was questionable. Still, he quickened his steps, and got a transfer with his heart hammering in his chest.

When he got to bay two, he seemed calm and collected.  He marched past the long lines of TIE-fighters, bypassing troopers and pilots and the usual crowd.

The Upsilon was neatly docked, still emitting smoke. Hux stopped at a few meters’ distance, hands clasped behind his back so he wouldn’t keep checking his hair.

The ramp lowered with a hiss, and Hux muttered, _come on, come on, come to me_. The exhaust lashed at him like the wave of Arkanis’ cruel sea, and Hux swayed with it, just a bit, his coat flapping.

Ren stomped halfway down the ramp, looking around frantically, helmet in place. He spotted Hux, and halted.

“Welcome on board,” Hux announced, and still, Ren didn’t move an inch. He effectively blocked the way of his crew, Killric and two knights with a battered droid.

“Hux,” he said, and added: “my general.”

Hux let a half-smile creep up to his lips, and inclined his head.

“May I see you to your quarters, gentlemen?”

Ren started running at that, his attendants trying to keep up. He hurried past Hux, barking back over his shoulder:

“I wish to congratulate you on your promotion.”

Some filthy promise was dripping from his words even through the vocoder. Hux frowned, and hastened after him. He got used to walking in his tight boots pretty fast. He clutched his datapad to his chest; they became inseparable.

“I trust your training was beneficial?”

“We had a mission. It was okay. Conquered some backwater planets. Three, to be exact.”

“That was you?”

Ren shrugged, and Hux muttered:

“Don’t be cheeky.” He looked back to check whether the others were following them. Killric and the droid headed to the control tower, deep in an argument, but the knights were lagging behind, a stocky one balancing a huge blade on his shoulder, and one who was basically an armory with legs. They were walking in sync, and when Hux turned back, he realised they were walking in sync with _Ren_. It would’ve looked much more menacing if they weren’t followed by floating luggage.

“You must be really hungry,” Hux noted. “You’re just in time for the delta-cycle supper.”

“We’ve already had soup on the shuttle, thank you,” the armory said, and Hux shivered. The voice was very nasal and very, very young. God, the kid must be what, eighteen? His companion whispered something to him in a language Hux didn’t recognise.

In lieu of a better answer, he nodded to them. It was so strange to have Ren by his side again; he felt nervous and annoyed and he didn’t know what to do with his hands. Colonel Hux already seemed like a dream long forgotten, the man who danced with the Jedikiller.

He knew everything would change once it’s just the two of them. He knew everything would change.

They stepped on the transfer, and Ren asked:

“How’s Millicent?”

“I’ve found some use of her,” Hux answered, and glanced at his datapad. He furrowed his brow. The cafeteria was running low on sugar again; they _just_ ordered tons of the stuff, and it wasn’t cheap.

“Are you training her to fight, or what?” Ren asked, a bit alarmed, and Hux blinked up at him.

“No, nothing like that, although she does listen to simple commands now, she’s very clever. I’m encouraging the officers to keep pets, as long as their favorites don’t violate certain sanctions, of course. It motivates the whole crew, troopers included, since exemplary job means that they’ll be granted custody of a domesticated animal of their choice. About forty percent of crew members signed up to the programme, and a lucky five percent will be qualified. I was inspired by Grand Admiral Thrawn to bring Millicent along to inspections, and seeing her, many expressed their desire to get themselves a pet, and still consider it a privilege to play with her. Colonal Kaplan’s massiff is quite popular as well, he’s a sweetheart.”

“Colonal Kaplan?”

“The massiff.”

Hux licked his lips, wondering whether he was talking too much. Ren and him stood elbow to elbow, but they weren’t touching.

“Dark gray suits you,” Ren noted, and when Hux didn’t say anything to that, he went on: “it brings out the colors in your eyes. They remind me of Christophsis. Ever been there? It has a crystalline terrain, it’s so beautiful, it’s a sort of blueish green. I’ll take you there someday. Watch the purple sunset over diamond lakes. The lights would catch in your hair, set it aflame.”

“As much as I appreciate your poetics, I’d prefer not to discuss holiday plans just now,” Hux remarked, holding his datapad up like a shield. Ren huffed, but stopped courting the life out of him, thank stars.

The transfer stopped with a gentle plop. Ren hopped off, offering his hand to Hux, who  didn’t take it.

“Follow me, gentlemen.”

“Wait for us here,” Ren contravened, and the Knights bowed their helmets. Ren nodded to them, and went after Hux, luggage floating behind. Hux waited until they’ve turned enough corners not to be overheard, and then he gritted:

“That was undignified.”

“What?”

“Oh, I don’t know, exposing our private relationship in a professional setting, directly opposing my order in front of your men, things like that.”

“When did I ever do any of that?” Ren asked, baffled.

“Just now, for stars’ sake. I don’t like the idea of your apprentices loitering around unsupervised.”

“Are you wary of them still?”

“I have every reason to be.”

“No, you don’t. I vouch for them.”

“Please.”

“It’s enough for the Supreme Leader,” Ren retorted. “They’re my apprentices, I know them, and I know them to be trustworthy, more trustworthy than your army could _ever_ be. We don’t keep secrets from each other. You can’t expect me to do that. You know nothing about our customs, because you never bothered to learn about them, so next time you try to judge my actions-”

“Ten minutes.”

“What?”

“You’ve been here ten minutes, and we’re already at each other’s throats.”

“You started it.”

“But you made it personal. This way.”

They turned left. Hux was counting their steps, itching to check his messages. He was still on duty, and he’d welcome the distraction, he needed something to focus on.

“So if I apologize, you won’t be still cross with me, will you, General?”

“What sort of question is that?”

“I won’t waste my breath on an apology if it’s in vain. I did nothing wrong, and you know it full well.”

Hux sighed, and stopped by a hydraulic door. He used his cylinder to override the security code, and it opened for them. Ren was right behind him, and whispered:

“Don’t worry, I’m ready to fuck the angry out of you.”

Hux was Force-pushed to the control panel inside. Ren pulled the helmet off, just letting it drop from his hands. His hair had grown quite long. He looked at Hux, eating him up with his starving gaze. He got hold of his wrists, holding them in his fists as he kissed him, breathing into his mouth:

“Did you miss me?”

There was no point in lying.

“I’ve missed you.”

Ren kissed him again. Hux grabbed his hair to pull him in deeper, silky locks and velvety lips, the luxury of being together.  

“You missed me bad, yeah? Fuck, the year we spent apart wasn’t this long, was it, it was an eternity. You wanted me here, you wanted me on this pretty little ship, you wanted me here in your… Wait, it’s not your room, is it?”

“No.”

“Wow, it looks depressing.”

“It’s yours.”

Ren frowned, and Hux pushed him off, gently. Ren propped himself up over Hux’s shoulders so he could look at him as he thrust his hips forward, rubbing their swelling erections together.

“What do you mean, hah?”

“It’s ah, a guest room for permanent guests, such as your Knights and yourself. I’m sure you’ll like it if you take a proper look around; it might be small, but it’s well-equipped.”

“We aren’t even neighbors?” Ren drew back, and Hux bracketed his hips with his knees to pull him back.

“Why would we be?” he asked, grinding up against him.

“Why wouldn’t we be?”

“Listen, I can’t make exceptions, Ren. The quarters are assigned by rank. I don’t know what a Ren can get.”

Ren licked up his jawline, grunting something like “you’re kidding.” He reached an ear, and nibbled on it, invisible stubble scratching Hux’s face. The scent of Ren’s shampoo spiked a new wave of arousal, and Hux moaned as he felt it rushing through him.

“You’re kidding, you’re toying with me,” Ren repeated, his breath hot against Hux’s skin as he reached down to cup his balls. “I’m your co-commander, and you’d banish me here?”

“Pardon, you are my what?”

Ren stroked him firmly.

“Direct order from the Supreme Leader.”

“I think there’s been a misunderstanding, Ren. My co-commander is Phasma.”

Ren chuckled, and let his hand roam over Hux’s trembling stomach.

“You think I’d be wrong about something like this?”

“I’ll speak to the Supreme Leader, but however it may be, the rooms are already assigned. I’m afraid you must stay here for the time being.”

“Then you’re staying here with me.”

Hux rolled his eyes. His face was burning.

“Don’t be absurd.” He sat up abruptly, greatcoat falling from his shoulders. Thanks to the control panel, he had quite a few inches on Ren. He bent his back so they were eye-level, and regarded him with an impassive scowl.

“We might have to share the ship, Ren. We won’t share me. I only belong to me.”

He slid two fingers under Ren’s chin, and kissed him, almost gently. It broke his heart to draw back after.

 

Ren was actually right. He was assigned to command the flagship of the First Order. _He_.

Ren’s first act as co-commander was to swap rooms with Hux’s neighbor, Lieutenant Mitaka. Mitaka was a vigorous, devoted young man. Within two cycles, he became the mere shadow of his former self, with a worried expression fixed on his face. Whenever he bumped into a Knight, he started blinking rapidly as if he was hoping that the next time he’d open his eyes, they’d be gone.

The Knights were patrolling the ship in groups of two, and then they’d be gone for months just to reappear again. Sometimes they’d stand in circles, silently, apart from the occasional snorts and snickering which indicated that in fact, they were deep in conversation. Their comings and goings were independent of Ren’s, who was mostly shipbound.

And it was driving him up the walls.

He’d walk over railings with easy steps, stroll through the bridges, roam over control panels like a trapped cat. He couldn’t wait to be sent on missions, and then he couldn’t wait to come back to Hux.

In his agony, he was accomplishing things, which was weird. Hux was anticipating a deadly impact, his comet-like personality wiping out all of Hux’s previous effort. He thought that Ren wouldn’t find his place in their carefully organised stellar system, that they’d need a big bang, start all over again, but Ren was… getting some job done. He wasn’t going out his way, but still.

He was good with pilots and ship repair and planning their route. He could’ve navigated them through an asteroid field while sleeping, and Hux suspected he did just that once. He knew the galaxy like the back of his hand. He always knew how to get supplies the easiest and the fastest way possible. He caught a terrorist and three spies on his first week. Diplomacy was like children’s play to him, especially since he refused to communicate, sealing deals with a wave of his hand. He spoke a shitton of languages, but he only had to utter one to three sentences to get what he wanted.

If there was one thing he was really, really bad at, that was bureaucracy. Hux was haunted by the memory of that first time he had to interrupt Ren’s eight minute report and break it down to him that he’d need all this in writing, preferably color-coded, with figures attached. Ren wasn’t having it. 

“Just tell them that I told you all about it and it went okay,” he suggested, and he had to sleep on the couch that night, cuddling a holorecord of _How to Prepare, Write and Present Really Effective Reports - Dummies’ Guide._

Atrocious administrative skills notwithstanding, he was an efficient co-commander. He bought an element of fear with him, which motivated the ones who got lazy under Hux’s firm but forgiving command. As Phasma put it, “no one likes him, but they all respect him; most respect you, and they all trust you; but at the end of the day, they’ll all do as I say. We’re basically the dream team.”

 

It all went so well. Then it got better.

 

Hux was standing on the commander’s bridge, surrounded  by screens displaying Vylia 6, a  small planet of the Trans-Hydian Borderlands. His target. He was counting back, eight, seven, six.

His army was waiting for his orders. His senior officers were ready to see him fall. The Council of Generals advised him to stick to planets on the Outer Rim, far beyond the Republic’s reach. To focus on heavy industry, raid armories, mine for more metal. Hux, for his part, had more than enough weapons at his disposal, thank you very much, and he also had roughly eighty thousand people under his direct command, who got hungry from time to time.

Vylia 6 had wheat fields. Forests. Sun-cradled fruits, fresh water, fat animals. The other generals thought themselves really clever to save on rations. They argued that real food was wasted on the crew, that they should be happy with capsules and powdered soup. Hux begged to differ.

He named the conquest of Vylia 6 The Pancake Offensive, subtly implying that anyone forced to live on protainshake would become a renegade if the Republic offered them so much as pancakes. Phasma was the only one who got the joke.

Ren did some digging, and revealed that Vylia 6 was ruled by two opposing families of slaveholder oligarchs, the Mugabas and the Vinjaggas. In consequence, the planet was heavily divided, with no central government, the population decimated by gang wars getting out of hand.

Hux could only hope that occupying the sole city of Kavos would send a message, and make the farms surrender so he wouldn’t have to go hut to hut to conquer the planet. To accomplish this, he had to utterly demolish Kavos. To utterly demolish Kavos, he had to get his troopers behind enemy lines so they could deactivate the air defense devices. There was an unexpected turn, however. Cassus Mugaba and Manel Vinjagga combined their mercenary armies, forming an alliance the first time ever in history, and thus outnumbering Hux’s troopers three to one.

Fortunately, they were stupid enough to send all their soldiers into the open, waiting for Hux’s troopers just outside the city’s energy field.

The _Finalizer_ was looming above the planet, Hux watching the two armies line up through the live feed of battledrones.

“Aurek regiment. Go.”

His stomach trembled as they all stepped forward.

“Besh and Cresh, to formation.”

Seven regiments in a V were facing the triple line of the mercenaries. He didn’t need all of them killed. He didn’t even need to neutralize their leaders. He just needed the middle to collapse. For that, the Aurek regiment, led by Phasma, should lose.

Just a few steps, and they’d be in range.

“Dorn and Esk, stay low,” he ordered, voice calm. “All units. Ready. Aim. Fire.”

Chaos unleashed. Laser beams flared up, blinding colors with too little red. The enemy charged, tramping, yelling, on foot or in tanks, a tide ready to swallow them up.

“Forn and Grek, fall back.”

The philosophy of killing goes something like this: if you flee, you’ll be chased. The even line of the mercenaries molded into an U-shape, just how Hux wanted it. A taut smile tugged at the corners of his lips. It’s gonna be quick.

“Keep in position.”

Smoke and dust lashed at the cameras. The noise resonated, shooting and shouting and whimpering. He’s lost two drones already, the empty, black screens above his head like the empty eyes of death.

The troopers were fighting for every square inch, and Hux’s voice led them through every single step they took.

“Aurek, retreat; make it authentic. Forn, report.”

“Fuck these fuckers, over,” Colonel Wendin gritted.

“Besh requesting backup, repeat, Besh requesting backup, over!”

“Grek, send the black squadron to Besh,” Hux commanded, and turned to the next screen. “Cresh, 48”56’, there’s a gap in your position. Aurek?”

“They’re buying it, over.”

“Dorn, fall in line with Cresh. Besh, spread over Dorn and Cresh.”

The lines were mutating in front of his eyes. The Aurek regiment’s retreat broke up the enemy lines, and Dorn and Cresh didn’t let them close it again. Aurek was pursued by the mercenaries’ best, who thought they were winning.

The idiots.

“Ren?”

“Knights ready.”

“Just in time for a little surprise.”

He saw them leaving the AAL. They walked at ease, facing the mass of Kavos’ army. It was no longer a well-organised twenty-something thousand army waiting in a line, however: thanks to Hux, they were scattered all over the place, engaged in petty battles with the regiments.  

The former Aurek regiment, now merely a squadron, lured the warchiefs and the heavy artillery as far away from the general bloodshed as they could get.

The Knights met them there. Ren ignited his lightsaber, and the sound filled everything, calming. Hux was safe in the knowledge that Ren could handle his part, and turned his attention to unite the Aurek squadron with Besh, and make them close the enemy into a circle, with the Knights in the middle.

He knew that it was essential that he stayed away from the battle, that it was the only way he could properly oversee it, but still, he was full with envy. He wanted to be amongst his men, blasters in both hands, and witness first-hand what was about to happen.

The Knights moved like vultures, dancing around each other, with Ren in the middle. Like this, they were all protected. Every spin, jump, somersault and fucking backflip seemed choreographed, like the battle they were fighting had already happened; like they’d won it already, and they were just going through some barbaric routine, practicing.

They didn’t miss a shot; not one; they deflected them right back at the enemy, and once a laser beam went through somebody, they just made it stay in the air, like a tally mark. Soon, the wayward beams illuminated the field, beacons of triumph humming and crackling.

The tanks united and fired at them from a safe distance. The Knights fell to their knees, touching the ground; a crimson energy field flared up around them, deflecting the proton beams. They leaped to their feet, and made their way through the uncanny glow. They froze the mercenaries in place, giving a clean shot to the troopers, who gunned them down one by one. The Knights reached the burning tanks, and Force-pulled their helpless pilots out, tearing them apart in the air.

No one was left to surrender.

 

Hux walked through the lush field littered with corpses. The balmy air was heavy with the smell of burnt flesh, excrement and piss.

The energy field was no longer protecting the city. Hux’s fleet was free to fly all over the planet, bringing back pledges of allegiance and pleads for mercy. Hux hadn’t responded to them just yet.

What was left of his stormtroopers were waiting for him, saluting, proudly standing over the ones who didn’t make it. Their raised fists created an arch, and Hux marched between the ranks created by his best soldiers.  

Ren was walking towards him from the other end. He was holding Cassus Mugaba’s severed head like an offering.

Just a few steps now.

Just a few steps.

They met in the middle. Hux slid his fingers into the hair of the dead Chiss, and looked at Ren. He was facing his reflection shimmering in the helmet’s silver.

He couldn’t do anything dramatic. Anything inappropriate.

He leant forward, and touched his forehead to Ren’s.

Three, two, one. They were just breathing together.

Then Hux stepped back, Mugaba’s head in his hands, a gift he so deserved.

“Let’s hear it for the General,” Ren said, and booming hurrah filled the air like a battlecry.

 

Kavos was inhabited by eight million civilians. There was no time to evacuate them, and it wouldn’t have sent the same message, anyway.

Hux could see the neutron bomb exploding from the _Finalizer_. Just a puffy cloud, and then nothing left. Absolutely nothing.

He wanted the whole of Vylia 6 to know what he did. He wanted them to whisper to each other about the _Finalizer_ hovering above them still. He wanted rumours spreading about the General nearing their villages. He wanted them to say to each other: wherever he stops, life stops. They’d say: better obey. Better not give him a reason to stay.

 

He knew full well that he should be celebrating with the others, but he was just pacing his quarters, dazzled, mumbling “I’ve got a planet” over and over.

His strategy has worked. It actually worked. The long nights he stayed up to plan it out in painstaking detail paid off. His stormtroopers stood their ground, something he’ll definitely point out to Phasma next time she shares her _insights_ on his battle simulations. He had a _planet_. And he had still much to do, of course, he needed to organise the peacekeeping forces, re-organise farming and agriculture, quarantine the radioactive heap which used to be Kavos, that sort of thing.

He stopped to light a cigarra, trying to keep his hands from shaking. His blood was drumming in his ears, the rhythm of a war march. He was dazed, exhausted, and thrilled. He never felt more like himself. He needed Ren in his bed.

Their bed.

Ren insisted that the one he got from Lieutenant Mitaka was hurting his back. They slept together, but rarely ever woke together; Ren tended to disappear for some morning seance or to answer Snoke’s mystical call, and Hux trained with the stormtroopers before he’d begin his earliest shift. Every time they attempted morning sex or breakfast in bed it turned into an argument of who was late from what, and whose fault it was.

In the first months, after Ren semi-officially moved in, their fights were really ugly. Ren was waiting for him in bed, getting more and more creative with seductive poses and props, and he couldn’t comprehend that Hux had no time for fun. He had a star destroyer to command, a superweapon to mobilize, a junta to advise.

So after a while, Ren stopped trying, and it was all very disheartening. He put away the toys and hanged his glamorous clothes in the closet. He didn’t offer to massage Hux anymore, although he tended to say yes to that. They settled for quickies on duty, weirdly impersonal and hardly satisfying.

Then Hux changed strategy.

It was a matter of multitasking. He let Ren suck him off during a conference call, and Ren came in his pants untouched. 

He’d make him undress and kneel by his seat while he was reading reports. He would caress his nape, still in uniform, feet crossed. A few hours later he’d put the datapad aside, send Ren to bed, and fuck him or let him do the fucking. Both of them would finish within a few glorious minutes, and Ren always got so calm and pilant.

Sometimes he cuffed Ren to the bed for an entire shift, his thighs spread, blindfolded, a plug up his ass, and he’d swing by during his lunch break and take him to pieces.

They’ve found their rhythm again. Ren got insatiable and unmanageable after a while, but Hux was always ready to discipline him. Then it started all over again.

It was a very nice arrangement, even with the underlying unprofessionalism of it all. On the bridge, Ren would constantly test his boundaries. He’d accidentally brush his hand over Hux’s crotch as he passed him, step into his personal place, project some ideas into his mind, nice and discreet and utterly obvious for the very same reason.

Hux discovered he didn’t mind much. These were the best years of their lives.

The cigarra burnt down. Hux parted his lips, letting the smoke drift to the viewport of his bedroom. He looked down at Vylia 6, glowing blue, and touched his fingers to the transparisteel, then dropped his hand.

The smoke dissolved in the draft as the door was opened. Hux’s heart thudded. It must be Ren. He didn’t turn to him just yet; he was enjoying the silent seconds of the door closing and Ren lingering at the threshold. He must’ve been anxious to run to Hux, yet he waited.

“Good,” Hux said, softly. “Leave the leggings on. Just the leggings.”

He glanced at Ren, who nodded in compliance. His heaving breaths were distorted by the vocoder. Hux watched him shredding layers and layers for him, and then the helmet falling. He had four thick braids on the top of his head, the rest of his hair curling down to his chin. His immense chest was glistening with sweat and dirt and some sacred oil, and he was bloody from navel to neck. Hux stepped to him, resting his palm on the mean muscles, following their familiar topography. Ren was watching him, eyes glinting.

“I’ve got you a planet, General,” he said. “I’ve got a planet just for you.”

“You’re indulging me,” Hux purred.

Mugaba’s skull was displayed on the shelf above the bed. It was clean of that garish flesh.

Hux leant in for a kiss, barely pressing their lips together, and he whispered:

“You’ll be rewarded for your assistance, Ren.”

“That’s not why I did it. You deserve a million planets. I’ll get them for you. I’ll get you the galaxy. I want to shower you in gifts. You were _made_ to be indulged.”

Ren reached out for him, and pulled him into a hug. Hux let him hold him, let him bury his face into his scrawny shoulders. He caressed his naked back, not minding how cool sweat and blood stick to his gloves. Ren kissed his neck just above the collar, and whispered:

“You’re shivering.”

“This was my first battle.”

“How come?”

Hux just asked back, voice flat:

“Is it always like this?”

“Victory or mass murder?”

Hux chuckled, a breathless little sound which never failed to make Ren’s whole face light up in return. Hux rubbed his shoulder blades with his knuckles, then whispered into Ren’s hair:

“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.”

 

He was lying on his back within minutes, wearing nothing but his gloves, boots and hat; Ren and his raging uniform kink insisted. He opened his legs for him, panting as Ren slid his slick fingers in, one, two, three.

“Tell me when, uh. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Hux arched an eyebrow.

“Do I seem fragile?”

“No,” Ren swallowed, dry. “You seem like something one should be careful with, because it’s valuable.”

“Valuable?”

“And cherished.” Ren started spreading his fingers, and Hux gasped, hips bucking. “Adored. Treasured. Fuck, you’re so hot inside. Your nose and your hands are always so cold.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“What?”

“My nose?”

“You didn’t know?” Ren smirked, and licked it. “Yeah, definitely freezing.”

“You’re disgusting.”

Ren licked it again, still grinning.

 

Then Ren was fucking him, finally, properly. It’s been a while; Hux was stretched out on Ren’s fat cock, and as he was staring at the ceiling, eyes wide, he thought about what an apt metaphor it was, Ren wanting to give more and more and more - ending up being overwhelming. It felt so good, too good. He could hardly recognise the moans escaping from his parted lips as his own. He guided his hands over Ren’s back, wrapping his legs around him, panting:

“Deeper, go deeper, I can take it, ah I can take it-”

Their eyes locked. Ren’s hair fell over his forehead, and he was watching Hux with utter devotion, like no one else would look at him, ever. Hux felt worshipped, and it was so addictive, lungs ruined by the tar of Ren’s praise so he couldn’t breathe properly, he couldn’t breathe.

“I love you,” Ren said, almost matter-of-fact, and Hux squeezed his eyes shut, biting down on his lips. “Does it hurt?”

“I’m fine. Harder.”

Ren rolled to his back, pulling Hux on top of him so he could ride him, fast and unabashed. Hux was bobbing on his cock, head lolling back. The wet little sounds were downright obscene, and they both reeked of sex and death. Ren’s cock pulsed, and Hux panted:

“Hold on, are you still with me?”

“I’m here, I’m here.”

Hux clawed at his chest, the leather gloves leaving white marks in the dirt, and he whispered:

“Don’t come yet, don’t you dare come yet.”

Ren was searching his gaze, and Hux glanced down at him, eyelashes heavy and pale chest slick.

“What have you done to me, look at me, what have you done to me, Ren?”

Ren grabbed Hux’s aching cock; his fist was slippery with blood and oil and lube, and he started moving his wrist in sync with his thrusts.

Hux screamed as he came, and almost doubled over. While he was still limbless, Ren rolled on top of him, turning Hux to his soft stomach, and grabbed his nape as he pushed back into him, sharp and brutal. Hux cried out, urging him on, and Ren kissed his hair.

“It always feels like this,” he told him, and it took Hux a moment to understand what he meant.

 

Then they were just lying there, facing each other. Neither of them said anything. Neither of them dared.

 

Too soon, it was time to leave the planet. Hux walked through the wheat fields one last time, sleepy sunlight bathing him in pleasant warmth. He turned his face to the breeze as he hugged himself, approaching the shuttle which would take him back to the _Finalizer_.

He should come back here once the war is over. He should bring Ren and Millicent, just for a week. He could picture Ren walking over the blooming terrain in one of his complicated dresses, or in full armour, the wind playing with his hair. He saw himself sitting on a verandah, sipping on caf, petting Millicent. Was this what he wanted, or what he wanted to want? What did it matter as long as he wanted it?

Phasma was waiting for him in the kindergarten, helmet in hand. Hux nodded in greeting, and joined her on the bridge. He was blinking sparkles from the sun.

“They’re so adorable when they’re still like this,” Phasma said, staring down. Hux got hold of the railing, and followed suit.

The Vylian children were gathered in one of the _Finalizer_ ’s storage rooms. Stormtroopers were guarding them, toddlers and teens huddled together, about one thousand and five hundred of them. The air had a sweetly scent.

“Would you like kids some day, sir?”

“Ah, I’ve already got a cat,” Hux mumbled, then glanced up at Phasma, who smiled at him, nodding, not missing a beat:

“I’m sure she’ll make you very proud.”

“Well, you know how it is with the Hux family, we make our ancestors proud or die trying. She’s house-trained, that’s something.”

“If you don’t mind me saying, I can picture you with a daughter. A human one.”

Hux glanced at his would-be army, and imagined a clever little girl standing by his side, dressed in white, ginger hair short and curly, and he’d crouch down to her, and explain in hushed tones, _these kids here have the privilege to serve the First Order, aren’t they lucky, love, aren’t they the luckiest?_

“What about you?”

Phasma cleared her throat.

“Ommatea is expecting.”

“Oh, congratulations!”

“I’m worried about her. She miscarried once already, you know how it is, and I… no, I don’t think I would be able to survive another loss, survive her sorrow. I’d carry it myself if I could, but you know, I’ve got a stressful job and I’m shipbound, so.” She sighed.

“Bio-engineering is basically risk-free, or so I’ve heard.”

“No, no, no, we want a _real_ kid, our kid, we want a bunch of them. We agreed that I’ll do my part and she’ll do hers, I help creating a better world for our future children and she works and keeps house and paints the nursery in my absence. We agreed on the color though. It’s gonna be mint.”

“You could always go on paid leave.” 

Phasma shook her head.

“Not now. This is important.” She knocked on the railing with her glove. “We’re so close now. This is how it is, sir. It’s the price we pay. I vanish for who knows how long and I can’t guarantee her that I’d return. She thinks that what I’m doing is heroic. I think it’s the least I can do to serve my world.”

They turned back to the children. Some of them looked back, eyes sharp, the bolder ones blowing raspberries or hissing. Hux hoped that the new method would work. He needed resupply, and he needed it quick, but the teens posed a risk, he had to redesign the whole programme and add some extra features.

The Knights of Ren marched in one by one, surrounding the kids. Ren was to Hux’s right. Two of them walked into the crowd, which opened for them, cowering from them. White noise could be heard, louder and louder, so loud it was unbearable, then silence fell.

One of the Knights started singing, softly, stopping from time to time like he was running out of breath. It was a lullaby; two Knights joined in, one voice throaty, one voice sweet, and then Ren’s mechanic baritone carried the tune.

Some of the kids  started humming and chanting with them, then more and more followed. They formed a choir, and the melody was rising and falling and collapsing, and it got faster and faster still. Phasma said:

“Oh,” then again, “ _oh_ , so if they manage to break into their minds, they make them sing, right?”

“I should think so.”

The kids trapped their feet to the rhythm of the lullaby in unison, clapping and almost screaming the words.

Hux could feel Ren watching him, and he graced him with a rare smile, narrowing his eyes in approval. He was certain he had heard this song before, it was so familiar - he could vaguely recall a sleepy Ren humming it under his breath.

 

It was only a matter of time he was summoned to a hearing on Hosnian Prime. The First Order’s delegation consisted of a protocol droid and two other generals. In Hux’s humble opinion, they didn’t look threatening at all, which was good, for once. General Plmary was in his late fifties, with large, blue eyes and a disarming smile. General Yorcot had a soft stomach, warm black skin and fluffy gray hair. They both had blood on their hands. They formed an allegiance instantly, chatting about the good old days, and by the time they got to the planet, they basically acted like they were some jolly old uncles who bought their prissy nephew to a vacation.

“Is this your first hearing?” Yorcot asked him as they left the landing pad.

“Something like that.”

“That’s the spirit,” Plmary encouraged him. “Don’t state, nor deny anything.”

Both seniors were wearing their full uniforms. Hux though the cap would be too much; he started regretting not bringing it.

The city buzzed around them, speeders whizzing away, black skyscrapers stretching up to the pink sky. The vibrant crowd promptly ignored that three of the First Order’s generals were walking amongst them, probably feeling protected by their privilege and ignorance.

“They’ll provide us with a lawyer, and we’ll return the favor,” Yorcot told Hux, like he didn’t kriffing know it already. “Don’t worry, we’ve bribed Kin-Wan Avery, he’ll play nice. It’s not a big deal, really, they just want to question us on the Pancake Offensive.”

Plmary giggled.

“Who came up with _that_ name?”

 _The reason they’re coming for me and not you is because I was the one who did something significant_ , Hux thought, but all he said was:

 _“_ Do you happen to know whether the hearing is scheduled to end at a specific time?”

“Well, if you ask me, don’t plan on having a good night’s sleep. Thney want to make us suffer. No press, but they’ve granted the civilians access. Very VIP. They don’t want the whole galaxy to know that they’re in deep shit already, and the select few won’t understand what’s going on. It’s all for show. They’ll play it all hoity-toity, as they always do, give us a fright, then beg for mercy in private meetings, slide us credits, suck our dicks, I don’t know.”

“I’m already tired of it, and it hasn't even started,” Plmary grunted.

They reached the courthouse, an overlarge concrete tube. Hux had seen prettier cisterns in his life. Yorcot and Plmary kept lamenting their fate and cracking tasteless jokes, and once they were in the elevator, Yorcot asked him:

“So, how’s Starkiller going?”

Hux glared at him. He was taller than both of them, he was taller than most men on the Outer Rim, and although he rarely used it to his advantage, now he towered over the general.

“If you’re referring to the thing which I refuse to discuss on Republic ground, I advise you to check my project management journal, I update it every odd cycle.” He looked him up and down. “It has pictures and everything. Should be an easy read.”

Yorcot chuckled, and Plmary elbowed him, winking.

“He’s Brendol’s son, alright.”

Yorcot said:

“Just a heads up, young man. The Death Star didn’t work, and neither did the second one. The bigger the base, the bigger the failure. They won’t even give you credit for your work. Everyone's still praising Vader for Alderaan - or curse him, for that matter, the efforts of Tarkin or Orson all but forgotten.”

“Poor old chaps,” Plmary sighed. “But Tom’s right, should you succeed, they might just thank that Kylo Ren, but should you fail, you’ll be the only one to blame.”

 

Once they were ushered inside, they were given repulsorpods, just like in the old Senate Rotunda on Coruscant. They’d hover to the middle when they were granted speech, and circle around when it was someone else’s turn, so Hux felt like throwing up the entire time, motion-sick and disgusted by the unprofessionalism of  the hearing. He gulped down the ventilated air, constantly distracted by the fiddling and barely hushed babbling of the civilians, whose viewing platforms were so high up that Hux couldn’t even see them. It was probably for the best.

Thank stars he came prepared.

He stood at disciplined ease, calm and steady. The only indication of his irritation was how he digged his nails into his palms, how pale he was. All his audience would see was a young officer, eyes wise, features pleasant, who talked in a soothing voice, and answered all questions and accusations with abashed respect, surprised that his intentions would be questioned.

Why did he occupy Vylia 6? To free the slaves, of course.

Why did he think it to be the First Order’s responsibility? He could no longer ignore their cries for help, and while the New Republic’s hands are tied by the laws not to interfere, the First Order is an independent organisation - they were the only ones who could save them.

He stopped to take a breath, and as he expected, he was applauded. Just a few hands clapping together here and there, hands which never got dirty, hands which were twitching for credits, hands which were ready to close around the Republic’s neck when it no longer served their personal interests.

“We brought an end to the savage tyranny of the slaveholders,” he said, and his clear voice with his clipped accent echoed through the place, eyes flaring with phony passion. “We brought civilisation and order to the exploited. It is regrettable that the only solution to their misery was armed intervention. Kavos was the small price we all paid to free an entire planet. We are ready to co-operate with the people of Vylia 6, and work together for a future which would bring them what was viciously stolen: their freedom, their dignity, and their peace.”

The applause was more generous this time around, with a few cheers thrown in. Hux bowed his head, a mere representative of the First Order, something far greater than himself. There’ll be a time they’d shout his name; it can wait.

“You said we _all_ paid a price,” a Neimoidian in rich dresses rose to his feet, but someone interrupted him by shouting:

“Where are the children?”

Everybody fell silent. The raspy voice sounded again, a voice used to giving commands:

“Why are children reported missing from all the planets the First Order makes its presence known?”

“Order,” the supervisor mumbled, resigned, and the woman grunted.

“It’s an open forum, is it not?”

She started listing her rights, and Hux recognised her then.

Leia Organa, in the flesh.

“We’re done for,” Yorcot said, and Plmary added:

“So very done for.”

Hux was impressed. Organa, dramatic like her entire family, somehow got a repulsorpod for herself, and descended from the common people, surrounded by light pouring down from the transparisteel ceiling. All eyes were on the spectacle. She was accompanied by a peculiar protocol droid with a red arm, and Lieutenant Caluan Ematt. The hearing committee put it on record that the opinions expressed by the Resistance were not their own and did not reflect their views, and Hux wanted to laugh out loud.

Organa’s pod lowered, so they were face to face. She was wearing a hand-me-down uniform, the tunic not even fitted, the vest downright horrible, her hair in a simple braided bun. Still, her posture betrayed her royal blood, her open glance her military experience, and although Ren tended to complain about how weak in the Force she was, Hux fancied he could feel a crackling energy surrounding her, an energy entirely different from Ren’s, but just as vigorous and just as merciless. She was like a glowing moon; Ren like a pulsar, a star collapsed on itself and more dangerous than ever, screaming into the void as it drifts around.

“Allow me to answer your question, General,” Hux began, but Organa put her finger to her lips, and he trailed off; he’s never been _hushed_ before.

“We’ve heard enough lies from you for one day, I believe.” Her droid handed her a battered datapad, and she looked up at the invisible citizens. “What you’re about to see, you’ll remember till your dying day.”

She tapped on the screen, and even before the hologram would flicker up, Hux just knew what she’ll show them; he just couldn’t comprehend how did she kriffing get it.

The plans of Starkiller were projected into the air.

The small crowd gasped in horror; that was the kind of applause Hux was hungry for.  

The blueprint turned around, casting eerie light on the onlookers. It was one of the earliest drafts, with a grille over the oscillator. That’s good. That’s very good.

“This is the third Death Star,” Organa announced.

Hux didn’t correct her. He was watching her with calculated curiosity.

“It’s just as deadly as its predecessors. It absorbs the energy of a star, fusing it into 2 x 10^32 J. And that’s just when it fuses the tiniest, saddest star in the galaxy.”

Hux huffed. Organa looked at him, face expressionless, gaze burning with helpless hatred.

“Care to comment?”

“First question: where did you get this little scribble?”

“I’ve promised protection to my source.”

“Let me get this straight: you can’t prove that you’ve acquired it legally, and you can’t even prove that it is a First Order blueprint?” Hux glanced at the committee, then turned his attention back to Organa. “You just walked in with a poorly executed doodle of an impossible weapon, claiming we’d dream up such a monstrosity in our spare time. Did you draw it personally, or was it made by a megalomaniac teenager you hired?”

There were some soft chuckles from the viewing platforms, and a committee member whispered to her colleague:

“It absorbs a star, huh?”

“We know for a fact that the weapon exists,” Organa snapped, and Hux asked:

“So where is it? I really want to see it.”

“We are yet to locate it, since it’s mobilized and heavily protected. However, it does leave behind a gravitational trail. I ask the committee to investigate....”

Hux wasn’t really paying attention. He needed a minute.

Organa had access to the early drafts and she quoted back his letter to him maybe without even noticing; also, she measured energy in J, and the only person left in the galaxy who’d still do that was Ami Vapasi. Doubtless, he was the Resistance’s spy. And Hux never suspected him. He never suspected that he'd pull a Galen Erso.

“Our committee is not interested in investigating baseless accusations and fantastic claims,” Kin-Wan Avery said. “Please delete General Organa’s report from the record.”

“You’re making a mistake,” Organa spat. “You cannot silence me forever, and by the time you start listening to me, it’s going to be too late.”

“Please accept our condolences for losing Alderaan,” the Neimoidian said, “but you must keep in mind that the trauma undoubtedly made you a bit impressionable. I must believe that you’ve shared this… evidence with us in good faith, but it’s clear that what you’ve found is just a tasteless hoax. We wish to only deal with facts here. We’re continuing our hearing on the topic of Vylia 6.”

“Is this democracy?” Lieutenant Ematt muttered, and Hux thought, _exactly, and this is what you’re fighting for, you absolute idiot._

“Order!”

 _You know nothing about order, you can’t even play by your own rules_ , Hux fumed on, then he froze.

The holo of Starkiller was replaced by a new one - a short record, projected by the Neimoidian’s datapad. Organa’s droid exclaimed:

“Oh no!”

Ren, with Mugaba’s severed head in his hands. Hux easing his fingers into its hair, glancing up at Ren, proud, triumphant. He’s leaning forward, touching his forehead to Ren’s helmet, a sentimental, silly little gesture, and they’re just breathing together, and - and he thought he was being discreet. The holorecord stopped and started again.

Lieutenant Emett was watching it with confused disgust, and Organa’s eyes were like open wounds, gaping at her son.

“What can you tell us about Kylo Ren?” the Neimoidian asked, and Hux’s first thought was _he smells amazing, I can tell you that he smells amazing._  

“The Knights of Ren are independent of the First Order. We are not responsible for their actions, or for the nature of their rituals. I would kindly remind you that the Jedi Order-”

“So it’s some kind of ritual we’re witnessing?”

“Don’t interrupt me,” Hux warned him. His voice didn’t even waver as he went on. No one knows what they’re looking at. It’s just an intense moment between two comadres. Nothing personal. Nothing which could be used against them. “The Jedi Order operated on the same principles. They were not accountable to the Republic. If you want an explanation to Kylo Ren’s behavior, you must talk with his Master. I can hardly help you, although I wish I could.”

“Could you tell us the name of his Master?”

“He’s called Snoke. That’s all I know.”

Organa shuddered, but she was still watching the record. Probably didn’t even notice that tears were running down her cheeks.

 

Hosnian Prime was clad in glittering darkness.

“I’m sure Master Ben will come back to us, sooner or later.”

“I’m afraid he’s got no reason to do that, Threepio. Whatever he was looking for, he’s found it. I can feel that he’s very happy where he is.”

The droid wanted to reply, but it recoiled when Hux stepped in front of them. He’s been waiting for Organa outside, guessing that she’d opt for the secluded fire exit. Organa glanced up at him, and simply said:

“It’s you.”

She looked like a tired nobody in the gloaming. Hux offered a handshake, but Organa crossed her arms over her chest, and grunted:

“What do you want?”

“It’s been an honor to finally make your acquaintance, General. I regret that we had to meet on opposing sides.”

“You’re quite welcome to join the Resistance,” Organa told him, expression stony, and her gaze drifted to his hair. “You’re the bastard of Brendol Hux, hah? Go figure. Your speech would’ve been quite convincing, hadn’t you dropped a neutron bomb on the city.”

“There’s been a misunderstanding,” Hux said softly. “I didn’t want to convince them. I wanted them to see that the New Republic will let me get away with it.”

“You’re just like your father,” Organa noted. “Stars, you’re all the same.”

“They need to see,” Hux went on, “that the New Republic is a corrupted, weak, deceitful-”

“So your plan is to make the galaxy exchange a deceitful system to an even more deceitful one, right?" 

“They won’t have any other choice,” Hux shrugged. “We’re the ones with the neutron bombs. Lies and violence are all permittable if they’re used for the greater good.  The New Republic only cares about their own agenda, and they’re willing to sacrifice the ones whom they can’t profit from, and the ones they mean to punish. They talk about prosperity while half of the galaxy is rotting away. They know nothing about unity. We’re dying for it.”

“Don’t you ever give up?” Organa sighed. “Look, let’s wrap it up. I don’t care about your Death Stars. I won’t be threatened by your weapons, by your armies, I won’t be impressed by your twisted ideologies. If there’s just one being in the galaxy who says no to you, believe me, their words will shake your empire to the core.”

She stepped forward, lifting her chin up. She told him:

“And I’m saying no. Now get out of my sight.”

Hux inclined his head.

“As you wish.” He bowed to her, and when he straightened up, he added: “I should get home to Ben soon, anyway. You must know how impatient he gets. So clingy, huh?”

 

He wished he could really just return to the _Finalizer_ , share a bottle of wine with Ren and bitch about the Republic butt naked, but first, there were matters to be taken care of.

Snow was drizzling over Starkiller base, the pines engulfed by a thick fog. Hux and the firing squad made their way through the storm. When they reached Vapasi’s quarters, Hux ordered the four snowtroopers to wait outside. The walls were radiating cold. He tapped in his override, and the door opened.

Vapasi was busy packing. Upbeat music blared from his datapad tossed on the bed.

“Going somewhere?” Hux asked, blaster aimed, and Vapasi turned around, pointing a DL-44 at him. The door closed.

“Hux?”

“I was raised a soldier. What do you think, which one of us is more likely to pull the trigger first?”

“Frakk,” Vapasi muttered, absent-minded. He had floppy hair, bronze skin and a nose with a sloping tip; Hux had a thing for big noses, brown eyes and muscular guys in general, and he was personally offended by Vapasi’s physique. Did the Resistance spy on his long-abandoned dating profile?

Vapasi raised his hands and dropped the blaster pistol, kicking it to Hux’s direction. He crouched down to get it, still keeping Vapasi at gunpoint.

“Good call.”

He put the DL-44 into the inner pocket of his greatcoat. The idiotic music really started to get on his nerves. Vapasi asked, so silently he could hardly hear him:

“You know everything, right?”

“We know enough. Lace your fingers over your head and kneel down.

“I wasn’t sabotaging the project,” Vapasi explained as he complied. “I know how important it is to you. You’ll find that she… _it_ functions perfectly. If I fucked up anything, you’d have found me out immediately.”

“They could’ve sent a kitchenmaid to spy on us,” Hux mumbled as he got a pair of magnetic binders from his belt, stepping behind Vapasi. He poked him with the blaster. “Lean your forehead against the floor.”

“A kitchenmaid wouldn’t have had the same level of clearance.”

“Well, you didn’t tell much to the Resistance anyway.”

“The Resistance?” Vapasi moaned as the binders snapped on his wrists, twisting his strong shoulders back. “They’re crazy fanatics, why’d I ever work with them? I’m with the New Republic.”

“Leia Organa has blueprint thirty-two and our personal emails, or so it seems.”

“What? No. No, no, no. Shite!”

“Stand up.”

Vapasi got to his feet, trembling. He licked his lips, and glanced back over his shoulders.

“I was hacked. Please, please believe me. Yes, the New Republic knows about Starkiller, I’ve been reporting to them since day zero, but we don’t want military conflict, you hear me? We let you build it, we _helped_ you build it, there was no other way, but we won’t let you actually use it. They want it completed so it can be used against you during negotiations, it violates the disarmament treaty, to put it midly. We want to negotiate. Please talk to my superiors when they contact you, it’s gotta be soon. I’m sure you can find a compromise which benefits both parties.”

“We don’t want compromises and benefits; we want order.”

“But you don’t want war either, do you? And now the Resistance knows about the weapon, and they’ll want a fight, and millions will die, so you need to work together with the New Republic.”

“I won’t discuss politics with a traitorous scum,” Hux told him, calmly. Vapasi sighed, shoulders dropping. Hux went on: “What was your plan? That I’ll get sentimental in some aftersex bliss and start talking?”

“No, that’s… No. Umm, can I turn so I can look at you properly?”

“No, you can’t.”

“Look, I’m not stupid, I know that you’re the kind of man who would rather bite his tongue off than be interrogated. And I’m not like that. I’m a coward, I’m such a coward I’d do anything to prevent a war-”

“You won’t live long enough to see it.”

“Thanks for reminding me, that’s not exactly comforting. I was scared out of my wits every day I was here, every single day, can you imagine what that’s like? And I told myself, I can’t live like this, I need some distraction, I need some fun, I’m gonna go mad. I can’t live knowing what I’ve helped to create, I want to get away, and y’know, I thought about it, and the only time I ever knew comfort and peace, the only time I could just drift away from myself was when I was being humiliated by my exes, when bossy, handsome men used me like their plaything and I could just go to that submissive mind place and be empty.”

“Ah.”

“And you seemed like the type, you know, I gathered you’d be into some hard kinks, and I wasn’t disappointed, I thought hey, I could trust you with this, we could have some fun, you’re right up my alley, you could crush me under your boots any day. I didn’t want you to fall in love with me so we can deflect the First Order together, no. I’m anything but romantic. I just wanted… I wanted to escape.”

“Sex is a lot of things, but it’s not redeeming.”

Vapasi smiled at him.

“You shouldn’t have come to personally off me. You’re a very important person now. I’m thankful that you did come.”

“Any last wishes?”

“I think you can guess.”

“How dare you,” Hux huffed.

“No, just think about it. A small favour, mutually beneficial. No consequences. You’d kill me afterwards anyway. Best way to go, if you ask me.”

“I don’t owe you anything.”

“No, you really don’t, but I can see that you’re considering it. That you could just shoot me after you used me.” He looked him in the eyes. “That you could just cum in my ass and shoot me in the head. You’d keep your finger on the trigger all along and you’d be thinking about it as you fuck me, that you’d pull it. You’d have so much power over me.” He pressed back, and noted, “I don’t want to be that guy, but I can feel that you’re getting really hard.”

“You’re being pathetic.”

“And apparently, you kinda like it. So? What's it gonna be?”

Hux opened  his mouth to tell him off, and that was when he realised that the only reason he could give why he wouldn’t want to fulfill this fantasy was Ren’s name.

And something snapped in him.

Something just snapped.

Next thing he knew, he was two fingers deep in Vapasi - a small courtesy; the magnetic binders were attached to the steel door, and the man stood with his pants pooling around his ankles.

His body was so foreign; Hux could paint Ren’s moles over it by memory, he could hear the small sounds Ren would make to his touches. He ignored Vapasi’s soft moans, and gripped his hair. It was shorter and rougher than Ren’s. It’s been ages since he’s been with anyone who wasn’t him.

He pushed into Vapasi in one go, fucking him with quick snaps of his hips. He got the DL-44 in hand, and pulled Vapasi back by his hair, forcing it into his mouth. The man swallowed around the muzzle, gagging as it hit the back of his throat. He was shivering and moaning around the blaster, sucking it off as Hux’s finger toyed with the trigger.

He was tight and hot around Hux’s cock. Ren was going on and on how sex was a celebration of life, a perfect way to connect, and as their relationship progressed, Hux had to admit that he was right, partially, at least: when he was with Ren, it was like seeking shelter.

Fucking a spy was more like an attack, a siege of the enemy’s territory. He was raised to do it.

He didn’t know which come first: pulling the trigger or having his orgasm knocking the wind out of him, but Vapasi was taking his last breath when he pulled out, and the man fell down. He didn’t drop: the binders were keeping him in place.

The cheery music was still playing.

Hux peeled off the condom, tossed it into the trash, and walked to the bed, doing up his fly. Vapasi had made the bed. How nice of him. Hux gathered up the comforter, and walked back to the body. He undid the binders, and frowned when Vapasi collapsed. He found the thought of pulling his pants up for him distasteful, so he covered up the body as it were.

Vapasi didn’t get to come. He didn’t deserve it.

Hux stepped over the heap, and opened the door.

“Clear up the mess.”

He couldn’t care less what they’d think of him. He didn’t  even care about his own emotions. He headed for the exit, and never looked back.

 

 _You shall follow this road from now on: this is the path you’ve chosen_. He kept hearing this sentence echoing in his head, like the reverberation of a half-forgotten dream. His home was still lightyears away, and he just couldn’t fall asleep. He was watching the galaxy dissolving into long lines of light, and he kept repeating, _this is the path you’ve chosen_. He didn’t know what it meant, but he knew it was important.

 

Finally, he was back on the _Finalizer_ ; finally, he was where he belonged. He was tired, so so tired, and his head ached. Still, he went to the bridge, requested a quick briefing, and even started off the shift.

Then he crawled back to his quarters, and he could finally let out a breath, eyes fluttering shut.

“Long day?” Ren asked him, and so he kept his eyes closed just a little longer, because he knew that the moment he’d look at him, everything would change.

Three, two, one.

He glanced up. The room they shared looked like a proper little place: Ren insisted that they’d hang up Hux’s drawings, and the kyber crystals were displayed on the high shelves. They even had plants. Hux started getting used to Darth Vader’s deformed helmet greeting him as soon as he stepped over the threshold. Ren was lounging on the leather couch by the caf table, maskless, Millicent curled on his chest.

Hux approached them with a bitter smile, pulling his coat off.

Should he tell Ren? Was that a good idea? He draped the coat over his arm the same way he was holding the comforter at Starkiller base. Ren would never understand what happened there, and jealousy would just tear him apart.

Ren smiled back, and Hux decided there and then that he’d keep it a secret, for both of their sake. He couldn’t bring himself to confess. Ren was too important.

Millicent started purring, and he crouched down by the couch to pet her. He reached out, but Ren seized his wrist.

Hux glanced at him, confused. Ren’s grip got stronger and stronger, and Hux realised that the low humming sound he heard was not Millicent purring: it was his mind whispering secrets he didn’t want to tell. His wrist cracked.

Ren was glaring at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hux is not a nice man. Twists and turns in the next chapter!
> 
> My beta reader is [gingercaf](http://gingercaf.tumblr.com/). I've misspelled "General" three times in this chapter. They're doing God's work.
> 
> Find me on tumblr: [longstoryshortikilledhim](http://longstoryshortikilledhim.tumblr.com/) // find the moodboard for the chapter [here](http://longstoryshortikilledhim.tumblr.com/post/150353490566/psychom%E1%90%83chi%E1%90%83-updated-chapter-69-ren-with)


	7. Chapter 7

The rain was tapping on the tent. Hux was seventeen, his fingers curled around the rigid length of an exchange cadete, who had him in his gentle grip. They were grasping for air, shaky breaths shared as their foreheads touched, dry hands moving stealthily so the other boy in the tent wouldn’t hear them. The rain kept tapping, _let me in, let me in_ , and Hux was staring into the darkness over the cadet’s shoulders. His whole body hummed with pleasure and then swelled with dread when he noticed that the shadows _shifted_. Somebody was walking around the tent, a tall, slouched figure, and Hux in the past pleaded:

“Stop it, stop.”

At the same time, the Hux in the present said:

“Stop it, Ren. Get out of my head.”

They were in Hux’s quarters, Hux’s wrist in Ren’s grasp. Ren’s knuckles were white, and there was that sickening sound of delicate bones crackling.

“Let me go,” Hux told him, voice flat, and Ren snarled:

“Never.”

His presence seized Hux’s mind again, numbing him like a dream paralysis, pressing down his chest so he couldn’t breathe, bursting his skull open. Hux wanted to scream so his voice would suppress the terrible humming, hear the echo of words and whispers he tried so hard to forget, muffled moaning of interchangeable loverboys, _gently, gently, gently_. He bit down on his tongue and snatched his wrist free, but it was too late.

Bruises were blooming under his pallid skin. As he stumbled back, his calves hit the table’s edge, and he hissed in pain. His skull felt raw, clawed open, oozing memories like blood and pus. He cradled his aching hand to his chest, and looked Ren in the eyes, almost a dare.

Whatever he was looking for, he found it. Hux could see it in his glassy glance. He sat up, slowly, putting Millicent on the ground.

“Why did you do it?” he asked, and Hux had no idea how to answer. His heart was throbbing in his throat, louder and louder with every wretched beat.

“Same reason I touched you abroad the _Tempest_ , I think.”

“Don’t you-”

“Just because I felt like it,” Hux went on. “Just for the hell of it.” He stared down at his hand, and curled his fingers, sharp pain shooting up to his elbows. “So I asked myself,” he said, “what’s stopping me? Why should I let it stop me?”

“You wanted to feel what, independent? _Uncommitted_?”

“Free,” Hux said, watching his twisted wrist. The pisiform was probably fractured. “We agreed that you would never, ever enter my mind without my explicit permission. I’m not the only one breaking promises.”

“You coward,” Ren spat. “You are the one who keeps lecturing me on responsibility, and look at you now, look at you, you let some traitorous scum provoke you, and now you’re justifying your actions and shifting the blame on me, like I’m _sorry_ I nudged your mind a bit when you stumbled through the door practically screaming with anxiety and defiance, like I’m sorry I wanted to know what had happened, that I was worried because you were late-”

“I don’t have to listen to this,” Hux interrupted, stepping aside. He walked to the bar, hand stiff and pulsing. “You sound like a househusband.”

“Is that supposed to be debasing?” Ren barked.

“Is that how you want to end up?” He fumbled for a glass, and poured two fingers of whisky in it. “If you ask me, you should probably fuck someone else as well. It’d hurt me and do you good. We’d be even.”

“Are you kidding me?”

Hux threw back his drink, and licked his lips.

“Partially, I guess.” He rubbed his eye with a fist. “Care for a drink?”

“You cheated on me,” Ren said, evenly. “You cheated on me, and you didn’t even mean to tell me. You really think alcohol and tasteless suggestions can solve this?”

Hux sniffed, and refilled.

“Back on Starkiller, I’ve made a decision. In hindsight, it wasn’t the right decision, but I was brought up to stay true to my choices. I admit that I had panicked, but you must understand that it was long due.”

“Why?”

“Huh?”

“Why did you panic,” Ren asked, hoarse.

“Look, you can’t expect me to be stuck with one person for the rest of my life, I’m just  thirty-four, I-” He stopped himself when he noticed that Ren bit down on his trembling lower lip. His eyes were suspiciously bright, and Hux couldn’t stand to look at him. He turned his back, and glanced down at his reflection on the bar’s clean metal surface. “I’m really tired,” he said, taking a quick sip, “and you’re really upset. We should talk about- we _should’ve_ talked about the limitations of our arrangement a long-long time ago. Let me shower and take a nap, and once we both calmed down-”

The glass exploded in his hand. The bottles on the shelves crumbled to pieces, and the room shook with them, the earthquake of Ren’s torment twisting the quarters.

“You broke my heart,” he announced as he stood up; then, there was darkness, and Millicent growled.

Shards of broken light tubes cracked under Ren’s heavy boots as he approached him. Hux turned around, calmly, and let Ren press him against the bar, standing chest to chest, his hands gripping the edge of the counter. Hux tilted his head, and cupped Ren’s face with bleeding fingers, small pieces of the exploded glass still under his skin. He searched for Ren’s gaze. In the dim darkness, his warm, wet eyes seemed empty and bottomless.

“I’m sorry I hurt you,” Hux said.

“Oh, you will be,” Ren nuzzled closer. “You will be.”

Something cracked in the distance.

“Stop it. Please, you’ll frighten the cat.”

“I can smell him on you, you know. He reeked of fear.”

“Please, Ren, the-” His speech faltered. Something closed in his throat. Ren bucked his hips, and the edge of the bar pressed against Hux’s back, sharp, cold and unpleasant.

“I’ll exorcise him. How about that? I’ll get you back.”

Ren gripped his slim waist, and pushed him over the counter. Shards rolled under his back as he was laid out. The whisky was dripping down to the floor. Ren crawled over him, pushing his thighs apart.

“If you want me to stop, you’ll tell me to stop,” Ren told him, “although I don’t advise you to refuse your punishment. Understand?”

Hux nodded, still unable to speak. Ren pushed up his tunic, and dig his fingers into the pale flesh, which was almost glowing in the starlight.

“I trusted you with my life,” Ren whispered, voice dangerously low. “You know that? I’d have done anything you asked me. Been your little slave.”

He yanked Hux’s pants down to his knees. He rolled him to his soft stomach, and pressed down on him, making the shards drill into his belly, his thighs, his groin. His fractured hand was trapped under his sharp hipbones.

“How could I trust you with authority now? How could I continue to respect you?” Ren asked, sitting back on his heels. “You’re not to be honored anymore.”

He slapped his bare ass, and Hux’s whimpered silently. His hips jerked, and the shards sank deeper, his wrist taking most of his weight.

“You’re a slut,” Ren said, smacking him again. “You should be treated as such. You’ve debased yourself. You’ve debased us. We’re tainted.” With desperation, he added:  “We’re ruined.”  

 

The sex hurt, but it wasn’t as degrading as Ren must’ve intended it. He was distracted and clumsy, never finding a rhythm, and Hux felt hollow and sore. He closed his eyes when Ren started crying, still fucking him, fucking his abused ass raw, and Hux wished he could feel more, wished he could say something. Ren came on his lower back and smeared his spunk all over him. He left him like that, filthy, bruised, wounded, broken, claimed, and Hux thought it fitting as he curled up on himself.

He smelled of Ren. He closed his eyes, and inhaled.  

He won’t let it go to waste, he decided. Never. They belong together.  

With teeth chattering, he collected himself the best he could. Walking towards the bedroom, he struggled to kick his pants off, still having his boots on. He left it behind in a dirty pile, and unhooked his ruined tunic, going through the same routine he did every day. It relaxed him; he could pretend he was just getting ready to bed.

The door was closed.

He knocked.

“Ren?” he croaked. It sounded like he’d swallowed glass. There was no answer. Also, the power was still out.

Hux wobbled back to the living area, and collapsed on the couch, naked save for his boots and his open tunic. He couldn’t muster the energy to get rid of them. Millicent crawled out from under the couch, and ignored when Hux called to her. She seemed insulted.

 

He woke from disoriented dreams, mind weary, limbs heavy and his wounds throbbing pointedly. He got used to Ren caressing him and pouring light into him so he’d sleep soundly, he got used to waking up to his kicking and snoring and screaming.

He would have to start this shift alone, and maybe many, many, many more. He walked to the bedroom door, tapped on it, got no response. He doubted Ren had any sleep, but he hoped he did. He went back to his luggage, got his toiletries and gym gear, told his latest Todo droid to clean up and feed Millicent, and left.

 

He ended up in the nearest communal shower, which was never used by officers, who had the luxury of their own refreshers. He could probably ask Phasma to use her sonic, but he didn’t particularly feel like explaining how he lost access to his own.

Mistakes are a natural part of progress, he told himself. Ren and him will learn from it. They’ll just have to live through this period of remorse and uncertainty.

He stepped under the cleansing vibrations, bare, _exposed_. His stomach started rounding out a bit since he was a general, since Ren moved in an introduced him to the concept of snacks, a bite of chocolate donut, a lick of ice cream, and he was so bloody proud of himself, of the squishy softness of his abdomen, a palpable achievement, something he gained.  Now it was criss-crossed with swelling cuts, and he still had grains of glass everywhere. His right hand looked terrible, sick nebulas of bruises painting it vivid colors. He made the mistake of moving it, experimentally, and he yelped, his vision going white for a moment.

Ren should be pleased with himself. Hux deserved the pain, deserved the constant reminder of his misjudgement.

“Oi, is everything ok-”

Hux looked back over his shoulder, expression blank. A trooper stood there, the knob of the yanked-open door still in his hand. He realized his mistake, and saluted him.

“I am so sorry, general, sir!” he blurted, still holding the fucking door open with his left.

“It’s quite alright, MP-8766.”

“I’ve heard an alarming cry, sir.”

Hux looked him up and down. He was a young unit, around twenty, with a distinct mess of auburn hair.

“I applaud your alertness and self-sufficiency, MP-8766.”

“Oh? Uh, thank you, general. So you uh, have it under control. Understood.”

“Yes, thank you. If you’d be so kind as to close the door, please.”

“Of course!” he nodded, casting a last glance on his scarred back. “Of course.”

“Of course what?”

“General. Of course. Sorry, sir.” He closed the door, finally. “Have a nice cycle.”

Hux buried his face into his hands, and inwardly groaned. He stayed like that for quite a while.

 

It took the medical droids forever to patch him up, so he was late for the gym. Worse still, his hair was fluffy and very much in the way as he kicked the punchbag to within an inch of its life. His hand was wrapped with bacta tapes, which smelled funny.

He skipped breakfast, and headed back to his quarters, nodding to the people who greeted him on the way. He really needed to shave. He really needed to speak with Ren. It couldn’t go on like this, making him take the walk of shame on his own ship.

Millicent was pawing on the door, meowing in mild outrage. Hux’s heart sank. Did Ren kick her out as well? Did she simply slip out when Ren left? Did he leave? Hux crouched down and scooped her up gracelessly, the cat turning into liquid between his cramped fingers. He ended up pressing her to his chest with his good hand, most of her just hanging and swinging in the air. She didn’t seem to mind, apparently having forgiven him for last night. Hux hoped Ren felt the same way.

The door was closed. It wouldn’t open to his cylinder, and didn’t do anything when he punched in the code manually. He kicked it for good measure, and pleaded:

“Ren?”

No response came.

 

He had to start off his shift in a tank top, loose pants, combat boots and with his cat. He had nightmares involving very similar scenarios. He decided he’d behave like nothing was amiss. After the most awkward fifteen minutes of his life, his crew stopped gaping at him, and started working in earnest.

He kept expecting Ren to turn up, to silently soak up his public humiliation, to haunt him like the ghost of his disgrace the whole cycle, but he was nowhere to be found. Hux didn’t even have the time to send him a message request: he had to prepare for a private meeting with the select Centrists supporting the First Order, who followed the events on Hosnian Prime with interests. They dropped some subtle hints that they’d be interested in funding the Third Death Star, if it indeed existed, and Hux went a bit weak at the knees when he saw the amount they transferred as a token of their good faith. He’ll have to put himself on his best behavior, and hopefully, in his uniform.

It was a tricky little thing; admitting the reality of Starkiller Base would be reckless, but denying it would potentially turn the Centrists’ sympathies once it’s made its existence known to the whole galaxy, and Hux would be caught on lying to their faces. He planned to shift their interest to the stormtrooper programme, which suffered a budget cut yet _again_. He’ll have to prove that they were worth their credits, far better than any of their predecessors. If only Ren would come with him; if only they would make peace by then. Their grudge shouldn’t compromise the efficiency of their work. That’d be unacceptable.

He made a typo as he was designing a box plot chart based on Phasma’s latest reports on the long-range accuracy of the units. He was emotionally compromised. _Sloppy_. He couldn’t shake off the feeling that everyone knew what the various marks and bruises on his skin meant. He could hardly pretend they were battle wounds. His mind kept returning to the last time when everything was still alright, before he went to Hosnian Prime. How Ren would leave lovebites all over his body, eating him up, eating him _out_ , making him orgasm on the tip of his tongue; how he sucked him off to show his gratitude, choking on that beautiful monster cock as Ren made soft little sounds and came all over his face, licking it off afterwards, not letting a single drop go to waste; how he made him spit it into his mouth, and then they were just making out. How familiar it all was, thoroughly domestic, part of a lovely routine, _their_ routine, a night like every other night they could afford to have some fun.

He reckoned that his punishment would be about three weeks of no sex, breaking furniture and either a screaming match or some good old fashioned silent treatment. Maybe Ren would even move back to his own quarters, which were empty save for an interrogation chair, a bed with a sling stand and a treasure chest. Hux somehow doubted he’d find much comfort there. _Then_ they could talk, maybe even draft up a contract, return to normal or decide just to be colleagues. His shoulders slumped.

Petty officer Thanisson slid into his field of vision. Hux glanced at him through the transparent screen, eyes burning. He saluted him.

“General! Oh, hi, Millie.”

Hux returned his greetings, unlike Millicent, who was too busy tapping at the screen. Thanisson was watching her with a determined smirk; he was very close to be allowed to get his own pet, and Hux could tell he was daydreaming just about that.

“You may speak.”

Thanisson looked at him, then did a double-take. Thankfully, he refrained from commenting.

“Commander Ren didn’t show up in hangar six, sir. We might need to reschedule the cycle and ask for a fill-in supervisor.”

Hux nodded, bile sliding up his throat. Thanisson went on, composed, but a bit hurried:

“Problem is, should he turn up later, starting the process without him would be a waste of time and resources.”

“It’s about the periodic TIE inspection and emission test, right?”

“Yes, sir. With the aid of Commander Ren’s uh, abilities, it’d only take about two shifts; without him, we need the full cycle and approximately forty men, or two cycles and twenty men.”  

Right. Ren just touched the ships and told the crew if something was off, the same way he’d lay his palm over the _Finalizer_ ’s walls and soothe her. Sometimes, he’d complain to Hux how weird it was to talk to mechanical things, that they didn’t make much sense and always grumbled. Hux preferred not to think about what it meant.

“I take you’ve already tried his commlink.”

“He’s switched off, sir.”

Hux wrinkled his nose. Switching off the comms during working hours was strictly against regulation, and implied some level of awareness from Ren’s part, an _act_ of disobedience. Hux thought he just didn’t feel like waking up, that maybe he stayed in bed, wallowing in misery. His concern and guilt were suddenly dizzying, but his voice remained calm.

“I’ll check his tracking device at once.”

“Thank you, sir.”

He could only type with one hand, which irritated him to no end. Thanisson got distracted again, cooing to Millicent. Hux narrowed his eyes at the screen.

“He’s nearing the reactor.”

“Great, I’ll go find him.”

“Are you sure you want to see to it personally?”

Thanisson straightened up, smile defiant. He wore his hair the same way Hux did.

“That’s what you taught me, sir. Besides, although communicating with Commander Ren can prove to be challenging, our past co-operations were always successful.”

“I trust you can handle it,” Hux told him, looking into his eyes directly. “Maybe tell him that you’re acting on the general’s orders.”

“Good idea, sir,” Thanisson said, relieved, and saluted him again. Hux dismissed him, and returned to his charts, calculating the interquartile range. He had about four minutes of peace and quiet, then he got an alarm call.

Experience taught him to put a headset on before he’d answer such a comm, so the bridge won’t echo the panicked babbling of this officer or that.

“Hux speaking.”

“General, the reactor core is damaged,” Nokono from maintainance reported, and then she added: “Estimated ten minutes till a gas leak. The security doors won’t close.”

Hux bit on his lips.

“Evacuate the vicinity immediately. Security level orange. Have you sent in the mechanics?”

“Of course, sir.”

“Call them back.”

“Sir?”

“No one is allowed to go into the reactor room, droids included, until I get Commander Ren out of there. Over and out.” He pulled the headset off, and shouted: “Major Kaplan!”

Everyone on the bridge jumped to attention.

“Sir!”

“Take over,” Hux said, and started marching away.

He couldn’t run. When the general raised his voice, that was bad enough. Him running would unleash mayhem.

 

He got a transfer, and commed Nokono again once he was in the reactor’s proximity. The security doors were still malfunctioning. Their control panels were slashed

“I want you to report to Kaplan as soon as-” He trailed off, catching a glance of Thanisson. He was lying on the bridge leading into the reactor’s room, surrounded by startled mechanics. Orange lights were illuminating them. Thanisson was shaking and wheezing.

He was asthmatic. Of course, he was asthmatic, it said so in his health record. Ren must’ve--

Hux glanced into the room, towards the glowing column of the reactor core. It was surrounded by narrow chrome-covered ramps, which reflected back sparks of red. The still air hummed.

“Kessler, Strax, take Officer Thanisson to the medbay urgently; the rest of you, head back to the exit, and wait for further orders.”

The mechanics did as they were told. Hux half-wished that someone would question his decision, would start worrying, _general, sir, isn’t it dangerous_. He started walking the ramps, cold sweat running down his temples. The walls opposite him sparkled up.

His steps were far too loud, echoing through the _Finalizer_ ’s deep belly.  He needn’t call Ren’s name. He must feel him coming; and he must know _what’s_ coming.

Unbidden, he remembered that Emperor Palpatine died under eerily similar circumstances. Oh, but he’s better than he ever was; and Ren is no Vader.

As if summoned, Ren stepped forward from behind the reactor core. He didn’t have his mask on. He was holding his lightsaber. The smell of ozone and melted steel was heavy in the air.

They looked at each other.

Hux approached him like one would approach a feral beast, knees slightly bent, shoulders slouched. Ren snarled at him. His hair fell over his face.

“I can’t think of anything else,” he grunted.

“What do you mean?” Hux asked, sharp; Ren winced. He turned away, and started pacing, two steps forward and two steps back.

“What do you mean?” Hux repeated.

“I can see you, and. And him.”

“Ren…”

“The _General’s orders_?” Ren snapped, and thrust his lightsaber forward. Hux halted. The blade was spitting plasma at him. He met Ren’s gaze without fear as he draw a line in the air, like he was splitting Hux’s image in half. “What _was_ that? I told you I won’t listen to your orders anymore. You’re unworthy.” The blade pointed to his forehead. “You’re a cheater and a liar.”

“We need you on the bridge.”

“You’d like to make use of me yet,” Ren sang. He swinged the saber, playfully, toying with it as he resumed pacing.

Hux clasped his hands behind his back.

“Ren, we have enough problems as it is. Don’t make it worse. I’m ready to talk with you, adult to adult, and find a solution.”

“Let’s find a solution,” Ren imitated him, voice shrill.

“So you won’t forgive me? Ever?”

“The forgiveness of one is impossible without atonement from the part of the other.”

“Look at me. Please. Believe me when I say that I am truly sorry.”

Ren didn’t even glance up.

“Do you know what I see when I look at you? That no matter how I debase you, how I torment and punish you, you’ll remain this… _untouchable_ creature. So beautiful. So calm. I can’t get to you. I’m making a fool of myself trying to.”

Hux smiled a bitter smile.

“I’m only human. You must know that by now.”

“No, no, no, you don’t understand. You’re everything. You’re in my every breath, in my darkness, in my home, in my workplace, in my life, in my dreams, rushing through my very veins. You’re my sanity, the last shards of it.”

He was short of breath, his eyes clouded over, puffy, red. He walked like he was winded up.

“We can figure something out, for sure,” Hux told him. “You can still work and live here, even if we decide to part ways.”

“How dare you.” Ren licked his lips. “You won’t get rid of me that easy. I won’t let you. No matter what you do. I’ll always be by your side. That’s my rightful place: right next to you, General.”

Hux peered at the butchered reactor.

“As much as I want to discuss it, I guess we’re running out of time.”

“Oh, the poisonous gas? Don’t worry about that.”

“As a matter of fact, I’m quite worried about that. Could we please let the mechanics do their work, and take this conversation someplace else? I think we’re really getting somewhere.”

Ren grinned.

“Say please again,” he mouthed, and poked the reactor with the tip of his lightsaber. “Say please again,” he repeated, going in deeper.

“Stop that. Please stop that. If you want to talk with me, there’s no need to take the crew hostage; they’re your crew as well, you’re responsible for their well-being, and really, jeopardizing their lives is very unbecoming of- Anyway. The ship is partially yours. So stop fucking ruining it. Please.”

“And you?” Ren asked, eyebrows arched. “Aren’t you mine as well, as I am yours? Didn’t you damage me? Your _property_?”

“I still believe that you can’t own a person; and for the same reason, you cannot lose them. Ever.”

Their glances met. Ren’s mouth opened, but he couldn’t speak at first, and when he did, his voice was empty, only the eyes keening:

“I must know how you feel towards me. I must hear it. Tell me.”

“If my actions in the past years didn’t speak of my emotions towards you, I’m afraid I’ve got nothing to say.”

It was the wrong response. Ren leaned closer, and he seemed somehow off, like a flickering hologram, like a ghost. The red of his sabre was reflected back in his hollow eyes.

“Which actions are we talking about?” he inquired, his snappy vowels more prominent than ever. “The rare occasions when you’re being nice to me, or when you’re busy screwing other people? Isn’t there a contradiction there? Your constant criticism, your fucking expectations, you - the moment I misbehave, the moment I don’t live up to your petty aspirations, you just give up on me and expect me to figure out on my own what I did wrong. You’re not living with me; you _keep_ me. You, my Master, Ben’s parents, Luke Skywalker, everybody in the galaxy is training me, taming me.” He turned on his heels, and cut down with his lightsaber. “This is who I am!” he yelled, and the reactor spat sparkles.

The lights flickered. And again.   

“Ren!” Hux shouted, and reached for him.

Under the flashing light, every moment seemed to be a freeze frame. There was the gutted reactor core, flashing up blue. Then darkness. There was Ren, raising up his lightsaber again, half-crazed in the flicker vertigo. Then darkness. There was smoldering lightening. Then darkness. There was Hux, reaching out blindly. The saber slicing down.

Then darkness.

Something dropped to the ground. Heavy. The lights started blinking even more rapidly, and Hux stared down at his arm, his severed arm lying on the ramp. He couldn’t connect what he saw to reality. He was in shock. He didn’t feel any pain. Not at first. Then there was nothing else left in the world.

He cried out; a gut-wrenching sound, something belonging to a helpless animal. Ren was staring at him, eyes wide in disbelief, and he kept repeating:

“No, no, no, no, no.”

He dropped the lightsaber, and stepped to Hux, still chanting his litany of bewilderment. Hux bared his teeth at him, and grabbed the front of his robes. He pulled him close, smelling burnt flesh, seeing red, and all he said was:

“Go to hell.”

With that, he pushed Ren to the low railing; he lost his balance, and tripped over.

Hux watched him fall down.

Could Kylo Ren be killed with one hand, in one moment? Could a single man-

He leaned over the railing, and peeked down, mind void. Ren had managed to get hold of a pillar about five stories down. Of course. Of fucking course.

They looked at each other. Hux guessed that his face was blank; Ren, for the most part, looked surprised, and then something else came over his features. Anger. All-consuming, berserk anger.

 

Then darkness.

 

Hux woke up in a bright white place. All was white, and everything smelled too-clean and too-sweet. He was in a clinic of sorts, but definitely not in the ship’s medbay. His bed was facing an aquarium with weird fishes. He could hear the water bubbling.

His first thought was that his insurance couldn’t possibly cover this.

His next thoughts were of Ren and the _Finalizer_ , of strobe lights and. And. Ren looked sad.

A medic droid powered up next to him; it was round and transparent, and ironically, somewhat similar of the IT-O interrogation unit.

“Welcome to the Isond Orunitia Cybernetics Clinic, General Hux.”

Oh. Right. His arm. Oh.

He glanced down. He was lying under a turquoise cover, in a pristine white hospital gown. And he had a cybernetic arm installed. It was still uncomplete. Jetblack. Skeletal. He swallowed down around a lump in his throat.

“What happened to the ship?” he asked faintly.

“Captain Phasma instructed me that when you inquire about the ship, I shall tell you that the reactor was successfully rebuilt. Also, the Centrists politely refused to fund the programme. If you don’t have any further questions, I am programmed to delete this information from my memory system. Do you have any further questions?”

“The Cent- How long was I unconscious?”

“You’ve been brought here one day ago.”

“How long is a day here?”

“Seventy-eight standard hours.”

Hux closed his eyes.

“Ten cycles. How long will it take for- To finish this?”

“Work had to wait while you were unconscious. The final design shall be discussed with you.”

“What happened to me?”

“You were asleep, General.”

 _Ren_.

  


He asked for his datapad, and started working. He’s lost too much time. Among other things.

 

He didn’t dare sleep. He couldn’t let the Force pull him down into that timeless darkness. His fatigue and the painkillers proved to be stronger than his will; and in his dreams, Ren was waiting for him. He was his old self. They both were. They were on the _Finalizer_ , and all was well.

 

He woke up to Millicent strolling over his stomach. Ren was slouched in a chair. He put Hux’s uniform over the armrest. He had a forlorn and arrogant air around him.

“Get out,” Hux said. His speech was slurred.

“You’ll be pleased to hear that I’ve got a report.”

“I’ve been briefed on everything I need to know.”

“Supreme Leader Snoke wishes you not to kill me,” Ren told him, offhandedly. Hux glanced at him. It hurt to see him. Ren looked like someone who didn’t sleep enough and cried too much. His hair was combed into pretty curls, just the way Hux liked it. Just the way he...

“I’ve got no patience for this at present.”

“He was most dissatisfied with your assassination attempt, General. I told him all about it. He’ll discuss the matter with you face-to-face.” He shrugged. “Face-to-holo. Same thing. Once you’re better.”

“Why did you come?”

“I wanted to see you. You look terrible. I hope you’ll learn how to masturbate with your left. Lots of lonely nights are lying ahead.”

“I won’t be thinking about you while I’m doing it, if that’s what you’re aiming at.”

“Oh, but you will.” Ren leant forward in the chair. His lips trembled, and his eyes were warm and gentle; he couldn’t change that. “Do you want me to erase your memories? About us. I could do it. You would remember everything, but my role in your past would be… less significant. Do you want me to do it?”

“Don’t touch my mind.”

“You don’t want to forget us,” Ren concluded, triumphant, and pulled back. He tilted his head.

“I don’t want you tinkering with my mind,” Hux said. “I’ve told you a thousand times, but you never listened, not when it mattered, so I’ll tell you again.”

Millicent curled over his chest. Hux wanted to pet her, but not in front of Ren. He was sitting with his legs spread, fingers laced, measuring him.

“You’re disturbed by my presence.”

“You chopped off my arm.”

“It was an accident. You know that. You knew it when you attempted to kill me.”

“You’ve survived, didn’t you? Shut up.”

“You didn’t know that I’d survive when you pushed me over that railing; you wanted me dead, I could sense it.”

Hux smiled at him.

“You’re a walking disaster, Ren, an erratic, sullen, stupid prick, and I would’ve done a favor to the universe, because what could be more dangerous than a man who _accidentally_ cuts of limbs and damages property, damages his own flagship, and all for what?”

“Because you can’t keep it in your pants,” Ren snapped, and Hux sat up.

“You really want me to be like that, don’t you? Unable to resist you. That’s why you came, didn’t you? You expected me to beg for your mercy. Well, to tell you the truth, I don’t regret anything I did, Ren. Anything. I’m done with you. We’re done. It’s over. It was over the moment you lay a hand on me.”

Ren was just watching him, motionless. He didn’t seem to be breathing. He said, low, mechanical:

“I’ll ruin your life, Hux.”

“Be my guest.”

“I could’ve made you very happy.”

“Please,” Hux said, turning away. “Were we ever happy? Really happy.”

“Yes. Yes, and you know it. Your heart was shining. It still does. I can feel it on my skin like sunlight. Don’t you understand? Don’t you understand what you’re giving up?” He reached for him, but Hux pulled back.

“You can’t touch me. You won’t touch me ever again. I won’t let you. Get out.”

“If you send me away now, I’ll never come back to you.”

“Go to hell,” Hux repeated. Ren was still reaching for him, like he wanted to pull him closer with the Force; but there are some things not even magic can solve.

Ren got to his feet. He towered over him, looming and threatening.

“You’ll regret this,” he told him. “I won’t forgive you. I can’t forgive you for denying both of us everything we could’ve had. I can’t.”

“Just leave me alone already.”

Ren leant in. Hux tried to push him away, but Ren grabbed his hair. He pressed his mouth against his, and whispered into the soft kiss:

“You’ll die alone.”

Hux let him have the final word; a curse, a promise or a prophecy, dramatic and entirely probable.

Ren dropped the uniform to the floor with overplayed carelessness, and walked to the exist. Hot bubbles surfaced in the aquarium, and Hux’s bed was shaking. Ren slammed the hydraulic door.

Hux waited for a bit, and then pulled Millicent closer. Burying his face into her fur, he finally started crying, hot tears burning his cheeks. It was loud and ugly, with shoulders shaking as he choked on his sobs. When Millicent wriggled free, he dropped his hands; he was wheezing so hard he almost threw up, and then with a final sniff, he closed his eyes.

 

Then he was deemed complete; he marched through the bridge, wearing his uniform. His glove and the sleeve of his tunic concealed what needed to be concealed. Everybody saluted him, relieved, with a sort of expectant readiness in their eyes. Hux passed them like a promise of victory.

Ren was waiting for him at the end of the bridge. He was watching the stars, asteroids of wishes glimmering and burning away.

Hux stopped by his side.

“Ren.”

“General Hux.”

Hux braced himself. He went through this in his head a thousand times. He’d be fine. He’d be fine. He’d be fine.

“Where are we heading?”

They were both staring into space.

 _It isn’t a question of what I do_ , Hux reminded himself. _It’s about what I don’t do_. So he didn’t look at Ren when he turned his helmet to him.

“Inner rim. I’ve told Captain Phasma to prepare the troops.”

Hux nodded.

“Very well. Let’s get to work, then,” he said, and turned on his heels.

He didn’t see Ren staring after him. He didn’t see his fingers curling into fists.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not a Star Wars story until there's dismembering ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ
> 
> I totally forgot to mention that I've made a mixtape for _Psychomachia_ which you can check out on [8tracks](http://8tracks.com/for_autumn_i_am/psychomachia) // [YouTube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vxjjsyT-W_o&list=PLah7OtfgZdrMQZH0uK26m4mZMX5HVYPf2); it's mostly stuff I listen to to get me in the fic's mood, 80s style space techno with a hint of industrial rock and dark electronica  
>  Also, there's a witch house / dark ambient mix for the Knights of Ren; if you liked the lullaby scene in the previous chapter, you won't be disappointed: [8tracks](http://8tracks.com/for_autumn_i_am/psychomachia) // [YouTube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vxjjsyT-W_o&list=PLah7OtfgZdrMQZH0uK26m4mZMX5HVYPf2)
> 
> As always, my amazing beta was [gingercaf](https://gingercaf.tumblr.com)
> 
> Find me on tumblr: [longstoryshortikilledhim](https://longstoryshortikilledhim.tumblr.com)  
> Moodboard for the chapter: [here](http://longstoryshortikilledhim.tumblr.com/post/150730082366/psychom%E1%90%83chi%E1%90%83-updated-chapter-79-im-sorry-i)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is **unbeta'd**. I suggest playing a "Spot the Grammatical Anomalities!" drinking game while reading.

Hux was looking at the red dawn unfolding like a flag as he stood on top of the world he had created. A thunderstorm was rolling in, the dry rumble of it lulling him. He was standing illuminated by the ground lights, his greatcoat flapping around, tiny snowflakes caught in his hair, on his lashes. He let the wind wash his mind clear, breathed in the sharp scent of pine leaves and cold and electricity.

He stood there until the metal in his prosthetic arm started creaking, then he headed back to his quarters. Even as a general, his issued room had no windows. He sat down at the edge of his narrow bed, shoulders square. The quarters of the late chief engineer were merely a block away. Hux had the absurd notion that should he go there, Vapasi would be still lying there, dropped to the ground after he had no more use. If only the dead could walk. If only the dead could run.

It was almost bizarre to be here again, but he found comfort in the return to his old routine, his daily walks, his cigarras, his music, his duty. Everything was scheduled to precision, every meeting, briefing and inspection, with just enough time between them to take a shaky breath. At nights, he’d sleep in a bed which never had Ren in it; he’d curl around his absence, nuzzling close to solitude.   

He didn’t run away. He just needed a break after the longest month ever on the Finalizer. The Weapon will be completed within a week. Within a week, all trivial matters will fade away in the radiance of triumph.

 

“General.”

He knew that there’ll be, there _must_ be a day when Ren’s voice won’t resonate in his stomach anymore. The vocoder didn’t matter. He could reconstruct the tremble of Ren’s words from memory, and he did it almost instinctively, reading his face underneath the mask. Hux clenched his fingers as a reminder to himself what was the result of him caring about Ren.

A fortnight spent on Starkiller, and he almost managed to forget how the starlight caught in the locks of Ren’s hair curling out the helmet’s edge. Almost.

“Report.”

It was only the two of them in the officer’s lounge. Hux had the suspicion that it was Ren’s doing. The abundance of chairs and stools and sofas stood empty, a game of Denebian holo-chess abandoned on a table. The bar glowed with a blood red hue, the infinite colors of the galaxy trapped behind the viewports.

Ren said:

“The missing piece of the map is with Lor San Tekka.”

“I see,” Hux nodded, then he narrowed his eyes at Ren. “Wait. So the missing piece of your precious little map is with one of the galaxy’s most notorious explorers?”

Ren shifted his weight, and said nothing. Hux went on:

“Why didn’t you start with him in the first place?”

“So he travels a lot,” Ren said. “So what? I travel a lot. Used to. Do I know the way to Skywalker? No. Not yet.”

“He’s been basically everywhere in the galaxy,” Hux pointed out. “He’s also a Jedi enthusiast. If _anyone_ would have a map-”

“Well, _I_ found him, so now we’ll have it, end of story.” He hung his head, and added, scornfully: “And he’s very good at hiding. Wasn’t that easy to locate him.”

“Where does he practice his expertise in hiding currently?”

“Tuanul. Jakku.” Hux made no reply, so he supplied: “That’s near the Kelvin Ravine, you know.”

“I don’t _care_. Did you notify the Supreme-”

“What do you _think_? Do you even think before you-”

“You couldn’t locate _any_ old idiot for-”

“You weren’t exactly helping-”

“I wasn’t even here!”

“Yes, you weren’t!”

The silence which followed was audible like a slap on the face. Hux rubbed his arm, a nervous gesture, and half-turned. Ren was looming into his personal space within a minute, pressing closer than absolutely necessary, and Hux arched his back to his chest without noticing. He was looking at their reflection on the viewport, and he knew that Ren did the same. He half expected him to embrace him, and he realized he wouldn’t know what to do.

Ren stepped back.

“I knew him,” he said, voice low and intimate. “I knew him from before. He would come visit Ben quite often. He’d tell him old stories and he’d tell that pathetic little weakling that what he was doing was something  remarkable and wonderous, ‘can you fly the bantha plushie, Ben, can you fly it for me? Look, look how it’s flying, a flying bantha, who’s ever heard of such thing?’ What an impressionable idiot.”

Hux frowned.

“How old were you?”

“Two, I think. Yeah, two.”

“You have memories from when you were two?”

“I have memories of the womb. Unlike some.”

Hux’s face flushed, and he bit down on his tongue lest he say something back. He refused to be affected, he refused to let Ren get back at him.

“Despite all his well-meaning, it’s going to be easy to kill him,” Ren went on, like he didn’t just… “My past is not my own. All I’ve got is the present moment.” He leaned against the viewport, and glanced out into the vacuum.

“You mean it’d be easy to kill me as well?” Hux asked, voice controlled. He was quite proud of himself. He didn’t sound irritated, not more than generally.

“Every time I picture it,” Ren told him,  “I imagine it to be easy.”

“Is that so?”

“I could do the killing part even now. What would follow, that’d be harder to bear, you know. I’d want to keep your dead body. I’d undress you and put you in a bacta-tank.”

“You’re sick.”

“I wouldn’t touch you. That’d be the whole point. You would be right before me, and I couldn’t touch you anymore. I could observe how my feelings towards you become more and more abstract as the days go by. I’d still love you, but this love would turn into the love of an object, the appreciation of your beauty nothing more than admiring a fine sculpture. I’d want your eyes to be open. I’d want you to watch me.”

“You’re out of your kriffing mind,” Hux announced, and turned on his heels. There was a distorted noise, Ren either scoffing or whining under the mask. Hux marched past him, heading to the exist, back straight. The door hissed open, but he stopped, and turned back. Ren was standing hunched over, hugging himself.

“What did you do with my arm?”

“Huh?”

Hux licked his lips.

“My severed arm. Did you put it in a bacta tank?”

“I cremated it,” Ren said, nonchalant.

“Did you keep the ashes?”

“Why? You want them back?”

Hux frowned in disgust, and as he turned away, Ren shouted:

“I had every right! It was yours, and you were mine!”

The door closed behind Hux.

 

They were heading towards Jakku. Hux wished he didn’t understand why the _Finalizer_ was wasted on such an inferior mission, but of course, the Supreme Leader’s pet had to make a bloody entrance. Snoke was susurring to Ren for what seemed like hours; he only had fourteen words to Hux (not that he counted), “is the Weapon’s construction still ahead of schedule?” and “I am pleased to hear that.”

Hux was standing at attention, hands folded behind his back, fixing his respectful gaze on the holo of the Supreme Leader’s shoulders as he babbled about this disturbance in the Force or that. Hux hadn’t been dismissed. He had a hunch that the Supreme Leader had simply forgotten that he was present. He tried clearing his throat, but to no avail.

To add to his irritation, Ren was standing so near to him that he could smell that musky, handmade shampoo he used. He could still smell it on his pillows. First, he thought he was imagining it. When he returned from the cybernetics clinic, he found his quarters salvaged: gone were Ren’s things, the bed was unmade and Hux’s second best greatcoat disappeared. Still, he was relieved. He expected Ren to wreck the place. Then he noticed that Ren’s scent just wouldn’t fade. Returning from Starkiller he had the same experience, which convinced him that Ren would creep back to his quarters and sleep in his bed whenever he was gone.

“I can sense a great amount of sorrow in you,” Snoke said. “Frustration. Fury. Hurt, indignation and bitterness. Honor these emotions. Feed and fuel them. They will give you strength.”

Hux was still staring at the same spot, his thoughts drifting towards the kybercannon which welcomed him home. Apparently, all Ren needed to stop procestimating was a heartbreak. While Hux was away, he had finally made a prototype, and lo and behold, he proceeded to have it installed in the wrong place. The _Finalizer_ already had so many canons that sometimes Hux had problems to choose just a couple to shoot with. On the other hand, Starkiller’s air defense was critical at best, but Ren never really gave a crap about the key weapon of their operation.

The whole ordeal was so like Ren, predictable, manipulative and dispensable till the end. Whenever he tried to help, he just made things worse. Still, Hux had appreciated the gesture. Once it was reported to him, he sent a message to Ren saying “nice job with the canon.” Ren never replied.

“Find inspiration in your desolation. You need to face this challenge alone.”

“Will I succeed, Master?”

“I accept nothing but your success. In your present state, you’re more powerful than ever, even if you do not feel it yet.”

“I want to make you proud. Do you think I’m ready?”

“Bury your doubts deep, child. When the time comes, you will know exactly what to do. Let the Darkness overflow in you. You still turn to the Light when you’re in pain; you must resist to do that. You must resist seeking comfort, peace and contentment.”

“I’m sorry, I-”

“It’s alright. These faults are with your human nature. The Force is perfect. You must allow it to take over you, and then you won’t be imperfect anymore. ”

Hux was wondering where Millicent might be. Ren and Mitaka swapped rooms again, and Millicent would walk the length and breadth of the ship to visit Ren in his new place. Hux would check on her tacking device from time to time, but never went to collect her. Ren would sometimes let her stay for a few shifts, which made Hux worry. He was anxious that one day Ren might just take her back. It wouldn’t be fair. Ren didn’t even particularly like her, since she was a rival to Hux’s attention, and he claimed that she was disagreeable and self-entitled. Still, sometimes he’d play with her, summon small globes of vibrant light and make her toys float around. Hux could see why Millicent would miss him.

He could relate.

Millicent always came back. Ren was never with her. It was sort of baffling; it would be the easiest trick, “I brought your cat back,” Ren could say, and hand her over, and Hux would step aside, “come on in,” he would say, and then. Fuck.

“I want you to focus on nothing but your mission. The next time you report, I expect you to have the map.”

“As you command.”

“May you dwell in Darkness. Thank you for your patience, General.”

Before Hux could come back to himself, the hologram dissolved. He set his jaw, and turned to leave. Ren just stood there, shaking, and Hux should have walked past him, but he asked:

“Aren’t you happy? You had the Supreme Leader’s undivided attention for almost one standard hour.”

“He won’t complete my training,” Ren rasped. Hux rolled his eyes, but Ren went on, undisturbed: “In Skywalker’s school, I’ve wasted a whole year carrying the padawans on my back, and it was supposed to teach me a _lesson_ ; fourteen years with Snoke, fourteen, almost as many as Ben lived, and still, I’m supposed to just know things - when will somebody teach me something, when will somebody show me the way?”

“Please don’t pour your heart out to me. It’s not proper.”

“You asked me what was wrong!”

“No, I merely called your attention to the fact that you should be pleased, and you took it as an invitation to start complaining. Learn some manners. We are supposed to be civil with each other. _When_ I ask you how are you doing, you’ll tell me that you’re fine.” He turned on his heels, but as soon as he started walking away, he could hear Ren trudging behind him. He was cornered within three steps; Ren faced him, leaning in so close that if he wasn’t wearing the mask, their noses would’ve bumped.

“Would you stop being civil and start being nice if I brought you my Master’s head?”

“Are you-” Hux mouthed, glancing behind his back, and then turned to Ren again. His breath fogged up the mouthpiece. “You would betray him now, when we’re this close to winning? When we finally need him? Would you turn against him just because you feel a bit neglected? Have you got the faintest idea what would happen to me if the Supreme Leader had _any_ reason to suspect me? ”

“I was just politely inquiring whether your attitude would change if you could use me again.”

“I don’t want to use you; you’re useless.”

“No, I’m not. Answer my question.”

Hux artfully wetted his lips.

“Why would you bring me his head? Why not take his place yourself?”

“I’m no ruler. I’m a knight.”

“You expect to win me back? Like it was some romantic gesture?”

“Would it work?”

“Absolutely not.”

“How do you plan to defeat him without me?”

“That’s the least of my worries now, Ren. My main objective is to guarantee that the Supreme Leader’s plans are properly executed. I need his influence to end the Republic. Once the rule of the Order is firmly established, well. That’s an entirely different matter.”

“Do you plan to push him over a railing?”

“You-”

“Whatever you’re planning to do, you won’t succeed without me,” Ren told him. “Did you ever think about that when you made certain decisions? Did you think about that when you started lecturing me on manners, when you told me to keep my distance?”

“For stars’ sake,” Hux muttered, and attempted to sidestep him. Ren seized his arm, the prosthetic one. He leant close again, not saying a word, his fingers curling around the lifeless metal. Hux hissed, like he could feel it, and broke free. He looked at Ren as he adjusted his cuffs. Then he left the holochamber, and never looked back.

 

They reached the planet.

 

Hux noticed that the stormtroopers started disappearing. It was quite worrying, even more so since he promised to send over a few hundred to General Yorcot. He was pursued by three communication officers as he walked out from a holoconference and headed to a FO briefing.

“Keep Yorcot on the comm. I want an estimation of the position of sub-hyperspace from the base. Send an affirmative reply to Ro-Kiintor. Transfer the six-thousand to CSA. Find me Captain Phasma, and we shall start initiating the attack asap.” Meanwhile, he took a datapad which was handed to him, scrolled through the application form, and entered his signal code.

He was not at all surprised that he literally collided with Ren when he turned the corner. Someone from the team gasped in sympathy as Hux walked headfirst into the steelwall which was his ex; he almost fell over, and Ren didn’t reach out to catch him. Hux found his balance, and looked him up and down.

“Sir,” one of the communication officers said, “Phasma reported back, they’ll land in two.”

Everything became clear then. Hux frowned at Ren, and commanded his team:

“Leave us.” He handed the datapad back to the officer, and they all cleared away swiftly, leaving Hux and Ren standing in the hangar’s door. Ren turned after them, and noted:

“Keeping busy, are we?”

“What are you up to, if I may ask?”

“Me?” Ren pointed at the helmet.

“When did you want to tell me that you’ve sent four AALs to Jakku, with one of my officers abroad?”

“Our officer.”

“The radars picked up an X-wing,” Hux continued, voice quiet and controlled. “Did you know that? Did you know that the Resistance must have reached the village by now?”

“I wasn’t aware that the Resistance consisted of only one pilot.”

Hux lifted an eyebrow.

“This pilot may rescue your source and bring the missing piece of the map to their base. I developed a strategic plan; imagine my surprise when I tried to contact Phasma to discuss it with her, and learnt that she was already nearing the planet. May I ask what was your command?”

“We don’t need a strategy, don’t waste your precious time. It’s just a dirty rathole. We’ll have it in fifteen.”

“So you’ll just unleash an unnecessary amount of troopers on the village, some with flamethrowers, and hope for the best?”

Ren opened the hangar’s door with an elegant wave of his hand, and confirmed:

“Something like that.”

Hux started chasing after him.

“Ren, you’re not being cost-effective.”

“I’m being simply effective.”

“I had the situation under control. There was absolutely no need for you to intervene.”

“You had about fifty situations under control.”

“I was handling them. That’s my job.”

“I’ve got this. Trust me.”

“When did you give me any reason to trust you?”

“Oh, look who’s talking!”

“No need to get personal.”

“I am their commander, same as you,” Ren snapped. They were heading towards his shuttle. Mechanics, troopers  and droids were marching past them, a controlled turbulence of First Order personnel. “I know you want to do everybody’s job in the galaxy, but finding Skywalker is _my_ mission.”

“We share the responsibility, though.”

“Go back to the warm embrace of bureaucracy, and leave fighting to fighters. A neurotic workaholic like you has no place near the battlefield. Your father was right about that.”

“Hah. You think you can hurt me? That you can compromise me?”

Ren looked at him before he’d board the shuttle.

“I’ve told you. I intend to try.”  

 

He returned without the map. Hux couldn’t decide whether it was part of his punishment.

 

Hux welcomed Phasma into his private quarters at the end of the last shift. He was sipping on a whiskey-infused cup of caf, smoking a cigarra, still in uniform, the collar loose. Phasma dropped bodily onto the couch Ren so liked to lounge on. She got her silver datapad, and read her report out loud as she was typing it. Hux listened intently, while checking the security cameras, doubling the guards, and pestering the interrogators. Phasma and him were brothers in arms and multitasking. The interrogators had only one job, but they weren’t any good at it, and, of course, Ren was nowhere to be found. He was probably off sulking or ruining something. Millicent was circling his rooms again. She wasn’t admitted.

“Survivors?”

“None, sir. We lost eleven.”

Hux scowled, but let it be.

“Do we have their destination numbers?”

“Certainly, sir.” Phasma glanced at him from behind her datapad. The screen casted a translucent blue light on her face. “Let me take the opportunity to apologize for what happened. When I acted on Commander Ren’s orders, I was convinced that he had notified you of his plans.”

“I don’t see any fault in following orders,” Hux said, soft smoke rolling off his lips and dispersing in the dimness. “I’ve sent sixty to Yorcot. It’s more than he deserves, anyway.” 

Phasma hummed her agreement, but her eyebrows were heavy set.

“Is anything the matter?” Hux asked, knowing full well what Phasma would say.

“I’m afraid it’s Commander Ren, sir.”

Hux took a long drag of his cigarra, and put the cup of caf aside when he noticed the trembling circles on the surface.

“Did Commander Ren do something which you choose not to include in your report?”

“No, sir.”

“So he did nothing which would make you doubt him, or his leading skills?”

“Apart from not troubling himself to co-operate with you, no. He was swift and determined during the operation, as always. He’s a noteworthy warrior, I only wish he’d abandon the nonsense flourish of lightsaber-duels and wouldn’t rely on the Force so much. He could become an excellent martial artist on his own right.”

Hux chuckled.

“Did you ever tell him this?”

“I may have talked to him about how lightsaber fights were not about winning, but about besting your opponent, and how it affected his approach to battle, being a Force-wielder and not looking for victory but for glory. I don’t think he got my meaning. He’s six feet tall and two-hundred pounds of muscle, _obviously_ , he could win a fight any time he damn pleased, but that’s not what he wants, and it can be extremely frustrating. Anyhow. My point is, I do respect him, even if I don’t necessarily agree with his approach. I’m worried for him; he’s been off-balance lately. It must be so strange for him to be alone, he just can’t seem to find his place.”

“Alone - without his Knights?”

“Well, yes, certainly, there’s that,” Phasma hastened, and then with a deep sigh, added, “I don’t mean to pry, sir. I respect your private sphere, but I think I’ve got the right to know what sort of men I trust with my troopers and myself.”

Hux looked at her. His eyes were dry and irritated from the smoke.

“What are you afraid of?” he asked, softly, and Phasma dropped her gaze.

“What happened at the reactor, sir?”

The pain was sudden. He curled his fake fingers on instinct.

“What do you think happened?”

“Anything I can think of frightens me.”

“I can assure you that whatever happened doesn’t affect you.”

“But it does,” she said. “Whatever affects work on the _Finalizer_ affects me.”

Hux crossed his ankles.

“I am doing my utmost to be able to work side by side with Ren despite our… current disposition.”

“Does Ren do the same?”

“You won’t let me get away with it, will you?”

Phasma smiled a sad little smile.

“No, sir.”

Hux chuckled again, dry and hoarse. He tilted his head back, blowing up the smoke.

“When we parted ways, it was ugly. I must admit the conflict is still unresolved. Nevertheless, for the time being, I need you to follow Ren’s orders, and not to question his authority or his capability to lead.”

“That was never my intention.”

“Well, if he goes on like this, you may find yourself wondering. You’re a clever woman, you shouldn’t be ordered around by… him, or his like, if you know what I mean. Victory is near. Let’s focus on that.”

“Understood, sir.”

There was a companionable silence. Phasma’s armor creaked as she got on her feet. Hux straightened up, and returned her salutation.

“Captain.”

“Good night, General. Please, do try to get some rest.”

 

Hux slept two hours. His subconscious was kind enough to come up with a wet dream. He remembered a confusion of limbs, of penetrating and being penetrated, coming all over Ren’s impassive helmet, climaxing again and again. A montage of mocking memories and shared fantasies, and then waking up alone in a cold bed soaked with semen. He changed the sheets, still drowsy and sluggish, and he expected Ren to come into the bedroom, to lean against the doorframe and watch him hiding the evidence of his persistent attachment. He wouldn’t be wearing the helmet. He would be in a tank top, socks and boxer briefs, like he used to dress for sleep, his hair tousled, eyes warm, so warm, the warmest. “Don’t just stand there,” Hux would tell him, “come help me, it’s all your fault, it’s all-”

He made himself stop.

He made himself take a sonic shower and dress up.

When he walked the bridge, he was General Hux again, cool and composed. Work started the same way it always did, with the same relentless precision and minor obstacles. The prisoner still  refused to spill, but Hux wasn’t worried. All men break, eventually. He sent in a droid. Soon, they would be able to leave; Ren will go to win his battle, and Hux will go to win the war.

They were deep in the second shift when Ren turned up on the bridge. He must’ve rose pretty recently, and Hux’s stomach dropped when he realised he was able to tell it even with the cloak and the mask. There was a spring to Ren’s steps, the weariness of his existence not weighing him down yet. He stopped by Hux’s side, but refused to greet him, staring at the blue smudge of Jakku through the viewport wordlessly.

“How are you today?”

“Nice try, Hux. How’s the prisoner? In pain, I guess?”

“We’re breaking him in.”

“No results?”

“None.”

“I’m taking over,” Ren nodded, and Hux let out a relieved sigh, disguised as a cough.

“We’ve got an ID, he’s one Poe Dameron from Yavin 4-”

“Poe?” Ren interrupted, and started away. Hux was trailing behind him.

“Do you know him?”

“I didn’t recognize him, he’s- grown. I don’t have any useful intel, but I know how I will make him talk.”

“I don’t doubt that.”

Ren huffed at the small praise.

“I’m surprised you haven’t scolded me yet.”

“Why should I have scolded you?”

“For my oversight. Eleven dead, and I don’t have the map like I promised.”

“Now’s the time to make it right.”

They’ve reached the end of the bridge. Hux stopped short, but Ren went on. Hux bit his lips, and arranged for an officer to take over. Once he was free to leave his post, he hurried to the interrogation room. The door was closed, so he walked back a few steps, and waited.

And waited.

There was a guttural yell, and then the whimpering started, muffled by the durasteel walls. The prisoner yelped on a small, pathetic animal voice. He didn’t know humans were capable of making such sounds until he started listening in to Ren’s interrogations.

He glanced away from the door, and curled his prosthetic hand into a fist, pressing it against his chest as a reminder. His heart was beating all too steady.

The prisoner started crying. Hux frowned. The choked-off, wet little sobs grew distastefully loud as Dameron whined:

“Nh… nnnn… no… no… please, please, please NO!”

Ren should have waited for Hux. He wanted to watch him work. He wasn’t sure whether his presence was altogether necessary, but he wanted, he wanted, he wanted-

The door hissed open. Hux was still lost in thought when Ren stepped in front of him.

“It's in a droid. A BB unit.”

Hux looked up with a modest smile.

“Well then. If it’s on Jakku, we’ll soon have it.”

“I leave that to you,” Ren announced, and trotted off. Hux’s smile froze to his face, then melted. He had to count back to collect himself, ten and nine and eight and so much for playing nice. He walked away on unsure legs, although his duty was certain: he had to report to Supreme Leader Snoke and resist the temptation to include a complaint on Ren’s recent behavior. He kept rubbing his artificial thumb over his glove. Ren would deserve a reprimand for sure, yet he was undecided, still haunted by the dream and that silly little morning fantasy. Maybe the reason Ren was late was because they’ve dreamt the same; it wouldn’t be the first time.

 

Ren didn’t bother to return to the bridge, but at least he checked in with navigation. Hux sent him a message to let him know that he had a brief talk with Snoke, but Ren ignored him, as was his new habit.

It seemed that he was serious about dumping the search for the BB unit on Hux. The only reason Hux let him get away with it was his conviction that Ren would find a way to mess it up. He organized a systematic search of the whole kriffing planet. He also cut his own salary to pay off some spies, bounty hunters, smugglers and sympathisers nearby to keep an eye out. He had all the ships coming from Jakku searched - some of them had been docked for the whole night, and their pilots were quite displeased and started referring to their right to come and go as they damn well pleased. Worse thing was, they were right. Hux had no authority whatsoever to blockade a planet, but, as he eloquently put it, “I just did it.”

He was busy handling the thirteenth false report about an extremely suspicious BB-series droid (this time, a BB-4000) when Thanisson commed a report:

“Unsanctioned departure from hangar six, bay two - it opened fire, I repeat, it opened fire!”

His heart sank.

Estimated casualties: eight persons. Fourteen. Fifteen. A TIE-fighter. Then the control room exploded.

Dameron will suffer for this. Everybody on the bridge worked together, and Hux never ever felt so in control. Panic and desperation flared up in his chest, but he was keeping them at bay for the moment. He knew that he’ll inevitably collapse under the weight of loss and betrayal, but he was the general, he had to keep his head up.

“Sir, they've taken out our turbolasers--”

“Use the ventral cannons,” he ordered, crossing the bridge with too fast steps, but at least his speech was soft and articulated.

“Yes, sir. Bringing them online,” Mitaka spluttered, and Ren found this the perfect moment to finally make his entrance. He wandered in like he was quite lost, and Hux hoped that it was the effect of the shared shock. It would be dangerous to accuse Ren of indifference now; now he needed his co-commander more than ever. He couldn’t be alone with this.

Dameron wasn’t alone.

He knew that it could only mean one thing: the impossible.

“General Hux. Is it the Resistance pilot?”

“Yes, and he had help,” he started, but his voice faltered. He swallowed, and made himself finish: “From one of our own.” He turned on his heels, trying to hide the shame he wouldn’t allow Ren to ever see. “We're checking the registers now to identify which stormtrooper it was,” he told him.

“The one from the village,” Ren mused. “FN-2187.”

Hux faced him sharply, but he realised he wasn’t surprised. It had something to do with dreams, blue lights, _that lightsaber belongs to me_ , some Force-nonsense he couldn’t even remember, and why didn’t Ren _warn_ them-

“Sir. Ventral canons hot.”

“Fire,” he breathed.

 

They escaped. Maybe he should’ve used the kybercanon. Maybe there was some strategy which would’ve prevented it.

He sent some troops down to search the Goazon Badlands and find them, or whatever was left of them. It didn’t particularly matter whether they’d turn up dead or alive. It wouldn’t change the fact that a stormtrooper, raised from birth, was _capable_ of committing treason. He just couldn’t stop thinking about it as he walked the bridge aimlessly, followed by his reflection. FN-2187 was part of Hux’s heritage, part of the First Order, part of himself. He was supposed to be perfect.

 _You forgot about chaos theory,_ he told himself. The deterministic nature of a system doesn’t make it predictable. The treason of FN-2187 wasn’t a result of a fault in the programme. It was a possibility; and whatever can happen, will happen. He was keenly aware that there were innumerable possibilities of failure still; and he won’t be able to do anything about it.

They’ve found pieces of FN-2187’s armor, and they’ve found his footprints in the sand. They followed them until the wind scattered away every lead they had.

“I didn’t get a report on the droid,” Ren popped up behind him. A shiver crept down Hux’s spine. He told himself it was what being startled felt like.

“I wasn’t aware you were reading them,” he told him. He resumed walking, and Ren fell in pace with him.

“I’m afraid you’ve lost sight of what’s important, General. We got what we needed from the pilot; the stormtrooper has nothing to offer, but sweet revenge; clearly, finding the map should be our priority.”

“Have you read my report on my talk with the Supreme Leader?”

“Scrolled through it,” Ren nodded.

“My troops are still searching for the droid, you don’t need to worry. Supreme Leader Snoke was explicit: capture the droid if we can, but destroy it if we must.”

“How capable are your soldiers, General?”

“I won’t have you question my methods,” Hux warned him, but Ren went on:

“They're obviously skilled at committing high treason. Perhaps Leader Snoke should consider using a clone army.”

Hux turned towards him, and Ren faltered. Kriffing Kamino-jokes again.

“My men are exceptionally trained,” Hux said, voice wavering with emotion, “programmed from birth-”

Ren leant far too close. He radiated heat.

“Then they should have no problem retrieving the droid. _Unharmed_.”

Hux narrowed his eyes at him. He knew Ren was familiar with this look, that he was more afraid of Hux’s dislike or dismissal than of his loathing. He talked slowly, softly, voice dropping to bedroom-volume.

“Careful, Ren, that your personal interests not interfere with orders from Leader Snoke.”

Ren snapped:

“I want that map. For your sake, I suggest you get it.”

As he headed off, he pushed Hux, who swallowed down an angry retort.

If Ren was still the same person who fell in love with him (and he had to be) then Hux could be certain that he’d won this round - that Ren fled from the mere idea of Hux setting back his mission on purpose. Ren tried to hit him where it hurt, but Ren himself was hurting all over; and for some reason, he never aimed for that aching spot between Hux’s ribs.

 

When the shift was over, Hux went to the medbay, clutching a carrier bag. The sterile, gray walls were illuminated by the blue and violet of the bacta-tanks. The droids were peeping softly, and he could hear faltering heartbeat. He walked down the line of beds, stopping by each and every one of them, although most of their occupants were unconscious, the victims of Dameron and FN-2187 with their fractured bones and third-degree burns. They were the lucky ones. They were alive. The few who weren’t sedated all started apologizing when they saw him.

Thanisson was in the far end, freshly out of a bacta tank. The short blanket covered what was left of his legs. Patches of fresh, shiny pink skin covered his face, his neck, his shoulders. His hair burned off; even the eyebrows, and the lashes. He would live, and he would be given new legs, but he’d forever bear the signs of the injury. He looked up at Hux, and the first thing he said was:

“I’m so sorry.”

Hux said the same thing he told everybody:

“You shouldn’t be sorry. You paid a high price for your loyal service.” He put the carrier bag on the nightstand, and started unzipping it. Thanisson looked down at himself. His eyes were red-rimmed.

“I’d rather be dead if it meant I stopped them; but they’ve escaped and here I am.”

“Here you are,” Hux said, “and you’ve still got so much to fight for. Battle scars are sure signs of a good soldier.” He pulled Millicent out of the bag, and put her on the bed. She walked over Thanisson’s stomach, and looked at him curiously. He beamed, and reached out to pet her. Two of his fingers were missing.

“Hey, hello, Millicent! Hey, hey.”

“I hope she’ll help you to a quick recovery.”

“I don’t deserve a therapy pet, sir,” Thanisson said, but gathered her up nevertheless. Hux smiled a faint, tired smile, and scratched Millicent’s chin.

“I’ve asked the medics, they say it’s safe. Could you look out for her?”

“With pleasure, sir. Thank you.”

Hux dropped his hand, and looked back behind his shoulder, surveying the room.

“You must know that I see hope in you, all of you. You’re survivors. Never forget that.” He looked back at Thanisson. “You remind me of myself, when I was your age.”

It was partially true. The young Hux would never accept favors, and never knew kindness, only fair treatment. Then he met Ren.

“I won’t disappoint you, sir. Never.”

 

FN-2187 was found. He had the droid, and he had a girl with him. Then they vanished, and Hux knew that he shouldn’t feel relieved, but capturing him on Jakku would’ve been too easy. He was positive that they’d destroy the droid in time, and the galactic warrant he had to issue felt much more fitting to the occasion than to simply gun down the traitor on a deserted junkyard. He wanted to make it big.

He was having a lovely chat with Bazine Netal, one of his favorite spies, when he noticed Mitaka stumbling to his post. He fixed his gaze on him, frowned, and ended the call.

“Lieutenant, follow me,” he muttered as he passed him. He could hear Mitaka’s quick steps behind him. He didn’t look back as he lead him through the corridor. They reached an empty meeting room, and Hux opened the door. The round table in the centre lit up, and chairs lifted up from the ground. Hux nodded at the nearest one, and Mitaka lurched to sit down. Hux walked in front of him, and leant against the table. He crossed his arms, and asked:

“What happened?”

Mitaka shuddered. He twisted his cap, and hung his head. He opened his mouth to speak, but all he could manage was a raspy squeak.

“The reason I brought you here,” Hux told him, “is because here, you’re free to speak your mind. You’ve got nothing to fear. Anything you say can’t and won’t be held against you. Now speak.”

Mitaka nodded, blinking rapidly, and tried again; his voice broke on the first syllable.

“If you were harmed or harassed by anyone on the _Finalizer_ , it’s your right and your duty to report it.”

Mitaka swallowed, dry, and muttered:

“I hate the Force.”

Hux scoffed, surprised, but Mitaka had found his voice.

“I hate it,” he repeated. “No one should have such power. It never ended well. Never. And, you know, once we established order in the galaxy. What will happen next? What if they decide to take over? I mean, who could stop them?” He took a trembling breath. “I’m sorry, General, don’t get me wrong, I do believe that they’re useful for the Order, per se, I’ve seen them in battle, but. Is this… a good idea to have Force-users among our commanders? Our leaders?”

They looked at each other.

“So you are not fond of the idea that Supreme Leader Snoke is a Force-user as well, correct?”

“We do need a leader,” Mitaka said slowly. “But they shouldn’t be one of them. Our leader should be a soldier, one of our own. The Supreme Leader is wise, and Commander Ren is… not always like this, but… he’s losing control. And I don’t dare to imagine what happens if someone like them loses control. It’s not just the Jedi who need to be… dealt with, for the safety of the galaxy, I think.”

“I can promise you that I’ll have a serious talk with Ren,” Hux said. “And I won’t tell anyone what you’ve just said about Supreme Leader Snoke.”

“I’m not the only one with such misgivings,” Mitaka confessed. “I’m afraid that the Order’s connection to Force-users might be our weak spot. The people who deflect, the people who never join us - they don’t trust mystics, and how could they?” He touched his throat, and rubbed it. “We’ll need a new leader, sir, someone we could all believe in, someone who truly represents us and our values. Someone like you.”

“I hear you.”

“And what do you say?”

Hux straightened up, and dropped his arms.

“You shouldn’t worry. It’ll be dealt with. I doubt Ren will be commander for long.”

And as for Snoke… no, he can’t say that out loud.

 

 _"The Ren feeds him lifeforce, we take care of him, we nurse him. He’ll always need us, and as he gets older and older, he’ll just need us more_ ,” Ren told him once, a long time ago, back on Arkanis. (And then he nestled between Hux’s open thighs, and kissed him again and again, the taste of fresh caf lingering on their tongues. He gripped his wrists and pinned them down over his head.) Point is: if he isolates him from his Knights, the Supreme Leader will be powerless.

He might have conquered death. He cannot conquer loneliness. That’s impossible. He’d wither and waste away. And then, just at the right moment, Hux would take over. He’d have an empire just on his own.

Just on his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When will their pining ever end??? (Spoiler: in the next chapter)
> 
> Find me on tumblr: [longstoryshortikilledhim](http://longstoryshortikilledhim.tumblr.com)
> 
> For your reblogging consideration:
> 
> ✮ [moodboard challange](http://longstoryshortikilledhim.tumblr.com/post/151390447331/im-jumping-on-the-kylux-fic-moodboard-meme)
> 
> ✮ [chapter 8 montage thingie](http://longstoryshortikilledhim.tumblr.com/post/151551763481/psychom%E1%90%83chi%E1%90%83-updated-chapter-89-you-mean)


	9. Chapter 9

The report that Starkiller was finally ready for action seemed like a sign from above; a sign of approval. He had to re-read the lines on the screen several times. All he could think was _I did it, I did it_. The star of his destiny was finally within reach. He closed his fist around it.

 

“Our strategy must now change,” Snoke said, irritated, impatient.

Perfect.

Hux looked up at him in the dim lights. Ren was by his side. He had been standing there when he entered, lost and shaken.

“The Weapon. It is ready,” Hux reported, his voice echoing through the assembly room. “I believe the time has come to use it. We shall destroy the government which supports the Resistance: the Republic. Without their friends to protect them, the Resistance will be vulnerable, and we will stop them before they reach Skywalker.”

The plan was outrageously simple. He was positive that Ren hated it, since he had virtually no role in it. It made his hunt for the map look like an aborted roundabout. Snoke, mysticism notwithstanding, always listened to logic. He touched his fingertips to his chin, then dismissed Hux with a lofty gesture.

“Go. Oversee preparations.”

“Yes, Supreme Leader.”

He turned to Ren. He couldn’t help it. Ren looked at him; he could feel his hesitant gaze boring into him through the visor. He smirked at him, challenging him. _This is exactly what it seems_.

He marched away, cocksure, proud. Once he was outside, he stopped for a cigarra. There was no reason to hurry. Everything would go smoothly. He deserved a small break, savouring bitter smoke and sweet revenge. He squinted as he put the cigarra to his lips, and sucked on it. The wind was carrying glittering snowflakes, and the path leading down the jagged hill was frozen over.

He closed his eyes, enjoying the cold burn of bloody awful weather. He let the wintry air sink into his bones, the pain of it a welcome sensation. It made him sharper. He heard heavy steps, but didn’t bother to look up.

Ren seized his arm, and pulled him to face him.

“What the hell was that?” he demanded.

Hux inclined his head, and blew the smoke to the mouthpiece of Ren’s helmet.

“Let go of me,” he said, gently. Ren squeezed him hard, then compiled. Hux dusted off his sleeve, then started walking away at a leisurely pace, allowing Ren to follow him. The man was hugging himself, for comfort or to brace himself against the cold, Hux didn’t know. Snow crunched under their cautious steps as they descended the hill.

Ren broke the silence. “You’re an idiot to think that it’ll succeed.”

“What will succeed?”

“Your plan. And it won’t.”

“Do tell me which part of my plan won’t succeed.”

“You want me to be disgraced,” Ren snapped. “To get fired, in your terms.”

“Well, you had it coming,” Hux noted, taking a long drag. “You’ve made it clear that you’re either unwilling or unable to continue working with me. This sets us all back - the _Finalizer_ , the Order. Ergo, you need to go.”

“Won’t happen,” Ren gritted. “Just think about it. Snoke has been training me for almost thirty years.”

“He’s been controlling you since you were born, so what?”

“It’s not like that. I’m my own man. He’s been guiding me for nearly three decades. I was chosen. I am his best investment.”

Hux reached out, playing with the snowflakes. They all melted at the tip of his fingers. “Imagine his disappointment when after all these years you let him down,” he said.

“I won’t let him down.”

“It’ll become painfully clear that you’re utterly dispensable to the Order. Snoke’s disappointment will be unavoidable once he realizes it. He thought he had created the perfect weapon, but it was me who did it and we’re standing on it.” He dropped the stub, and stomped on it for good measure.

That made Ren shut up. His breathing sounded uncharastically laboured through the vocoder.  Hux couldn’t help but smile. He loved to be right. Ren must’ve seen the smug tug of his lips, because he snorted, and pointed at the door of the barrack they were nearing.

“Suppose Luke Skywalker steps out on that door,” he said. “What would you do about him without me?”

“Well, I’d die, obviously, but my army would be ready to face him. We could always fire at him with our ion cannons.”

“He’d stop you before you make the decision to stop him. He’d make you hand over your beloved weapons. He’d make you surrender.”

Hux chuckled.

“He would hypnotize a planet’s worth of people? I don’t think he _could_.”

“Technically speaking, mind tricks are nothing like hypnosis,” Ren grumbled, rubbing his forearms. “He’s one with the Force. It’ not a question of what he _can_ do, but what he’s _willing_ to do. He might think he has the moral high ground, but he’s incredibly stubborn. He would move mountains just to make a point, and I don’t mean figuratively. Once he sets his mind to getting you, believe me, you’re done for.”

“This is the same man Snoke expects you to take out on your own, is that correct?”

“That’s different. I’ll cloak him in shadows, drain his powers. They should belong to me, anyway. His full potential is restricted by the Light. He might be old, grief-stricken and weakened, but don’t think for a second that an army could stop him.”

“Look, I don’t want to underestimate Luke Skywalker, but at the end of the day, he’s only human. I’m not afraid of anything which can bleed. And he can; he will.”

“You should be afraid. You’d be so easy to break.”

They reached the door, and it hissed open. Luke Skywalker wasn’t waiting behind it.

“You’re serious about breaking me, aren’t you?”

“If you continue to drag my name to the mud, there will be consequences. You won’t like them. Not one bit. I could tear your mind apart. Leave you a drooling mess. Take away your prided intelligence, your training, your sense of identity. There would be nothing left in your world but your worst memories and anxieties.”

Hux hummed.

“And what would you tell Snoke, I wonder? I’m a vital part of his plan, indispensable for the Order.”

“You’re a nobody compared to me. My abilities are utterly unique. You’re replaceable. He can find a hundred people who can shout fire when told, who look good in propaganda holos and whose surname has a nice ring to it; because that’s all you have to you: you’re _a_ general, you’re _a_ Hux. How ironic it is that all your values and privileges are thanks to a father you loathed. Your schooling, your breeding, your heritage. What would you be without him?”

Hux chuckled. The troopers and officers passing by saluted him and hurried away, graciously pretending they didn’t hear a word of Ren’s slurring. He was universally respected. Ren was feared at best.

“I know that you’re under the delusion that I’ve got daddy issues, but it’s not so. I might not have been fond of him, but I’m proud of him, and I’m eternally grateful to him. My privilege was a gift, but it was a result of the hard work of my ancestors. They wanted me to have it and make the most of it: that’s what it means to be a Hux. You’re not born one; you aspire to be part of the lineage.” He chanced a glance at him. “My future husband and my adopted children would be able to enlighten you on the matter. I think I’ll be rather busy ensuring the prosperity of the galaxy.”

“Shut up,” Ren hissed. “Just - shut up for once. You don’t have a perfect little future waiting for you. You don’t deserve it. You’re a nobody. Your heritage is worthless, the only place where it matters is your sodden little planet. You’re not aspiring to be anything, you’re a career officer, one of the hundred generals who think they can make a difference-”

“Thirty-six. The First Order has thirty-six generals, Ren.”

“Whatever.”

“You’re a dilettante when it comes to the First Order. You have clearly no place among our commanders.”

“ _I’m_ the dilettante?” Ren raised his voice. The troopers heading their way turned on their heels, and a cleaning droid smashed against the wall, beeping frantically.  “You haven’t got the _faintest_ about the Force, and you’re waging a war! How do you plan to protect yourself of something you have no idea about? You need me!”

“Let’s agree that Leader Snoke has some idea about the Force, and he thinks my plan is excellent. He trusts me to succeed on my own, and he’s right to do so. I don’t need a co-commander. I never did. You’re not an expert or an adviser or whatever you fancy yourself to be. All your ranks are nominal.”

“Neither of you think of her!”

“Who?”

Ren refused to answer. Hux rolled his eyes. He stopped short by his quarters, and punched in his code, while Ren was still lurking behind him. He wanted a quick shower and to get his cap. He entered, and Ren had the audacity to follow him and continue his grumbling:

“You’re a rabid fanatic, a loner who pretends to be a team player. You’re incredibly selfish, and it’s going to be your unmaking. You’re a cruel, vain, touchy little _fake_ , you’re dust and your own insignificance terrifies you so much that you’re obsessed with leaving behind a legacy and fixing everything single-handedly, but you won’t succeed, and not thanks to me, but thanks to you, since you lack...”

Hux never found out what he lacked. As he shrugged off his coat and reached for his collar, both of them realised at the same time that it was too much like before. An argument, and then clothes coming off; just the two of them, and the door closed.

He loosened the collar. A flash of skin; a challenge. He was facing Ren.  A slip in self-discipline. And then...

He wasn’t sure what happened next. He didn’t know who stepped closer first, who reached out for whom, and whether it was him who pulled off Ren’s helmet. The next thing he knew, Ren was pushed against the wall, and he was kissing him furiously. He hated every second of it, he hated himself, he hated Ren for not telling him to stop, but it was too late. He knew that it was a now or never moment, and that he’d regret missing out the opportunity.

Now or never or one last time. Just to say goodbye.

They made their way to the narrow bed, and dropped to the cool sheets. They kissed like they wanted to devour each other, and well - there was some truth to that. The melted snow and the dirt from their boots stained the bed. Hux was keenly aware that they were making out in front of the First Order’s flag on the wall. Maybe it was betrayal. Maybe it was the exact opposite.

Ren’s closeness was overwhelming. Hux couldn’t begin to comprehend how much he had missed his taste, his heat, his weight over him; he just wanted more and more of it, clawing his back raw, claiming his mouth. They were rolling and wrestling and wriggling so much that they got hopelessly tangled in the blanket, and they lost valuable seconds trying to kick it off.

Once they were free and all the pillows were on the ground, Hux decided that Ren was wearing too many layers, and started undressing him. Ren followed suit, tugging off Hux’s shirt and jacket. His breath hitched when he uncovered where the cybernetic arm joined Hux’s narrow shoulder. Hux straddled him, and he could feel Ren’s cock twitch. He tsked, and gripped Ren’s throat, pushing him down with the prosthetic. Ren looked up at him, eyes hurt and hungry, needy little sounds escaping his parted lips. Hux dug his fingers deeper, choking and bruising him, and pressed his straining bulge against Ren’s thigh. Both of them were still wearing pants, and neither of them was bothered by it for the time being. Hux enjoyed how the coarse material rubbed against his erection; he deserved the soreness and the irritation. He deserved far worse.

He kept looking into Ren’s eyes.

Ren palmed himself through his fly, and then, with a sardonic smile, he unclasped his suspenders and tugged the pants down, making the waistband catch under his balls. He was putting on a show, touching himself in earnest, and Hux couldn’t resist, he had to join the fingers of his free hand with Ren’s. His cock was leaking, flushed and hard, and Hux smeared the precome all over the head with his thumb, just how Ren liked it, not stopping until Ren was dripping, hips rolling. He batted away Ren’s hand then, wrapping clever fingers around the shaft, fiddling and pulling and twisting.

“You prick,” Ren panted, and Hux released his cock, offering his palm:

“Spit.”

Ren complied. Still riding his thigh and pressing down on his throat, Hux continued to jerk him off.

“Look at you, General, you like it so much.” Ren raised his thigh, and Hux’s hips bucked as he gasped. Ren gripped his hips, and made him grind down harder, while he was working hard to bring him off.

Clearly, it was a competition. The first to come would lose, but both of them _needed_ to come. Hux was ready to play dirty; he moaned out loud, knowing that it’d drive Ren crazy, and arched his back. The open shirt revealed his chest, and he sighed:

“Ah, Ren, fuck, you’re so close.”

Ren snorted, and pushed Hux off with the aid of the Force, just so he could bury him underneath him. Hux tore at his back, and Ren licked his way down to Hux’s groin. Hux grabbed a handful of his hair, tugging at it, pushing Ren closer and rubbing his clothed cock all over his face. Ren forced his thighs further apart, and started lapping at his erection, saliva dripping down his chin within a minute. He was sloppy and messy and dead set on making Hux come in his pants. The jodhpurs were soon sticky and soaked, but at this point, Hux didn’t care. He moaned his pleasure, as loud as he dared, hooking his knees over Ren’s shoulder.

Ren knelt up, lifting Hux’s hips off the mattress, and licked long lines with the tip of his tongue. Hux cried out, and squeezed his eyes shut as he came. Ren didn’t wait for him to finish: he dropped him back, opened his pants and took him into his mouth, bobbing his head up and down as he started jerking off again. Hux hissed, his oversensitive cock pulsing and softening on Ren’s tongue.

“Can’t you come without sucking me off?” he hissed, and Ren mumbled something with sounded like “don’t wanna.” Hux let out a dramatic sigh, and glanced down. It was a pretty sight, undoubtedly, Ren’s eyelashes cast down as he was worshipping his cock, tasting him like he was something sacred, and Hux reached out to run his fingers through his hair again. Ren leant into his touch, and came with a whimper.  

“Ah, brilliant,” Hux noted, and attempted to kick him off. Ren grabbed his leg to still him, and managed to get his come on the long-suffering pants. Hux pushed him away, complaining: “oh, thank you very much, look what you’ve done.” He sat up in the ruined bed, chest heaving, and hung his head. He stayed like that for a moment.

“Just embrace the fact that we’ll both regret it,” Ren told him. “Mistakes can be liberating.”

“Ha-ha. Piss off.” He got up, legs still shaky and pleasantly numb. Ren was looking at him with a self-satisfied smirk, his fingers laced on his nape.  Hux got his boot jackets from under the bed, and Ren watched him struggle. Hux was aware of his caressing gaze moving over his petite rear. Ren told him once that it was love at first sight.

“It could be like this,” Ren mused.

“What do you mean?”

“We could just fuck each other every now and then.”

Hux glanced back behind his shoulder. Ren was still staring at his arse.

“Whatever happened to being in love with me for forever?”

“I will love you beyond forever,” Ren said, and locked eyes with him. “I don’t have the power to change that, but I don’t think it should stop us from enjoying each other’s - company.”

“Ren, what we just did doesn’t change anything.” He kicked the boots off. “You wouldn’t be able to do it, anyway. You’re compulsively jealous, possessive and sensitive. You crave constant reassurance and you have rather romantic ideas about commitment, and now you’re offering a no-strings-attached arrangement? _You_ ? You were jealous of _Joran_ , of all people.”

“That was ages ago,” Ren pointed out. “Besides, he did call you love.”

“That’s an Arkanis-thing, we call everybody love.” He stepped out of his briefs, and shrugged them off his ankles. “Family. Friends. Pets. Romantic partners.”

“You never called me love,” Ren pouted.

“Because you prefered to be called my little cockslut.”

“I could be that, if you wanted.”

“No, you really couldn’t. Out of the question.”

“Suit yourself, General High and Mighty. You don’t know what you’re missing out on.”

“There’s one person in the galaxy who knows it, and that’s me.” He gathered up his clothes, and headed to the refresher.

The sanistream felt nice. It made him believe that he could just wash off the experience. He didn’t want to pretend it hadn’t happened, but he wanted to put it behind his back as soon as possible. They did it; it was fantastic; a happy accident; end of story. He had more pressing matters to think of. No need to trouble his mind over his ex. Right. Yes.

When he stepped out of the refresher, Ren was still there. Hux stood before him, hair re-made, naked as the day. Ren had cleaned himself off, sort of, and smiled at him, awkwardly.

“Leave,” Hux said.

“Don’t be like this. You won’t fool anybody.”

“Shoo. I need to get prepared.”

“Go ahead. I won’t hold you up.”

“I’m telling you that you’re holding me up.”

“Sorry,” Ren grumbled, and didn’t move an inch.

Hux rolled his eyes, and stepped to his built-in wardrobe, putting on clean clothes. He’d need to have the jacket ironed. “I presume you’ll be with us when we fire the Weapon?”

“No.”

“No?”

Ren glanced at him, and repeated: “No.”

“May I know why?”  
  
“You might have noticed that I’m Force-sensitive. You plan to annihilate billions, and I will hear each and every one of them scream, I’ll feel their pain. I don’t think you’d appreciate if I collapsed on the spot.”

Hux’s expression hardened as he put on a pair of briefs, but his voice was soft:

“You’ll swoon?”

“I won’t feel okay. Why? You wanted to hold my hand?”

“I thought you were proud of our achievements. But, of course, you just proved once again that you’re unfit to be a commander of the First Order.”

Ren leaned back on his elbows. Hux turned his back.

“Why, exactly? Because I won’t pose for your parade?”

“Because you don’t belong with us, and you never will. You’re a different breed.” He pulled on a crisp pair of jodhpurs. “Do you know what I’d do if I were you?”

“Do enlighten me.”

“I’d go back to my family.”

Ren let out a startled little laugh. The cover rustled as he shifted.

“You want me to join the Resistance?”

“Far from it. You wouldn’t be admitted, anyway. It would break Organa’s heart, but she’d send you to prison. No, if I were you, I’d go to Solo, and ask him to disappear together. Go as far as light goes.” He put on his dog-tags. “This galaxy is not big enough for the both of us, Ren. You should discover what lies beyond, or go to the outer regions. There must be a place for you somewhere. Let’s face it, it’s clearly not here.”

“I can assure you it’s not by Han Solo’s side, either.”

“Then go alone, or get yourself a friendly droid or something.”

“If it’s up to me, Han Solo won’t go anywhere anymore.”

“I think you don’t get my meaning.” He looked around for his boots. They were lying on the ground. “You told me once that I was your Darkness. That should you’ve known me earlier, you would’ve joined the Order right away.”

“You used to have a good affect on my balance. Then you broke my soul, and tried to kill me, and now you’re trying to banish me. Not helping.”

“Precisely, Ren. I won’t help you anymore. You’re on your own. Your Master won’t forgive your failure. Even if you found Luke Skywalker, you wouldn’t really stand a chance, not in your present state, and you know it. Your crew dreads you, and your Knights would easily abandon you. What are you still doing here? Honestly.”

Ren looked away, muttering:

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“And you have no idea who you are or what you want. You were raised to be a servant, then they made you a master. Just like your grandfather.”

Ren raised his voice:

“Leave grandfather out of this.”

Hux shrugged, elegantly. “You’re following his footsteps in vain; you’ll stumble on the way.”

“I’m carrying on his legacy,” Ren spat, and wrapped the cover around his hips as he got out of bed. “It’s the objective which keeps me going, it’s the very thing which gives my life purpose and meaning.”

“So what happens if you fulfill it? If you kill the last Jedi? What then?”

“Luke Skywalker will perish,” Ren said as he crouched down for his pants. “I’m not some sad, lily-livered teenager anymore, I’m a man now, and I’ll face him as such.”

“Oh yes, I forgot, I’ve made you a man,” Hux noted. Ren shot him a sharp glance as he started dressing.

“I’ll be forever in your debt for everything you’ve done for me, _Hux_. You’re being pathetic by trying to unmake your generosity. You can’t take back what you’ve given. It’s too late. You gave yourself to me. You belong with me. If I ran away, I’d steal you away; and should I fail, I’ll drag you down with me.” He called his lightsaber to his hand, and put it away.  “My victory will be only my own, though.”

“I won’t wish you good luck, then.”

“You’re so blind. We’re fighting the same fight.” He adjusted his tunic, and got his helmet.

“You’re mistaken. No one wants you in this war. No one wants you.”

Ren stepped to him, helmet in place, and reached out for him. He ran his gloved fingers over the catches of the cybernetic arm, toying with them, and Hux shivered, head light and stomach heavy.

“You wanted me,” Ren told him, gently. “You still wanted me, even after this.” He dropped his hand, and headed for the exit. Hux called after him:

“Go home.”

Ren straightened up, but didn’t look back. Hux added:

“What would your grandfather do?”

 

Ren left his robe and his cowl there, probably deliberately. Hux decided he wouldn’t rise for the bait, and he’d just toss them at the nearest droid heading for the _Finalizer_. There was a strange moment when he gathered them up, feeling the battle-worn material. Suddenly it seemed that handing them over would be like carving a part out of himself. He summoned the memory of his chopped-off arm hitting the grille, but it seemed like an excuse. He clenched his teeth. He’d have to do it, even if it felt wrong. That was what his life was all about, after all.

He always thought this would be the best day of it. So far, it wasn’t looking like it.

 

“Today is the end of the Republic,” he announced. It was the same speech he’s been practicing since the first _real_ test-run. His voice had a melodic quality to it, but it was sharp, shrill, like he was spitting out the venom of the lies the Republic was pouring down the galaxy’s throat.

When he drafted it out, he was thinking of the Empire’s children who died of malnourishment and trivial illnesses, forced into exile. He thought of his own childhood, of the show trials and the hunts, the paranoia and the panic. The Rebels and their followers could do anything with them, the Republic would look away; they were the enemy, their lives were worthless, while non-humans thrived.

It was peacetime, and they were tortured. Humiliated. Slaughtered, by the dozens. Worse still, many of them were betrayed. There were certain places where Hux didn’t dare introduce himself, and covered his hair. His father would put common clothes on him, and tell him:

“If they capture you, you know what to do.”

Hux could feel the bitter taste of the poison capsule lingering as he made his speech. There was a trick to put it between your gums and cheek, and keep it there. He almost had to bite down once, when he was fourteen, when the rotating academy was found out and they were made to flee.

“At this very moment, in a system far from here the New Republic _lies_ to the _galaxy_ while secretly supporting the treachery of the loathsome Resistance!”

His army was lined up before him - a good portion of it. As far as he could see, he saw black and white, he saw _order_.

He was certain that if he pronounced these words in the right sequence, with the right intonation, they would work like a spell - they would bend time and echo in the mind of a shivering little boy. At the end of the day, he was doing it for him.

“This fierce machine which you have built, upon which we stand, will bring an end to the Senate!”

He was doing it for himself.

“To their cherished fleet!”

He was trained to do this. Made to do this.

“All remaining systems will bow to the First Order!”

And he’ll know peace.

“And will remember this…”

He won’t be forgotten.

“...as the last day of the Republic!”

They will thank him. Hail him. Adore him.

“Fire!”

When the magnitude nearly pushed him back, when everything was a glorious red, he wished he had Ren’s powers. He wished he could hear every scream and feel all the lives melting away under his skin. He wished his brain could comprehend the purity and the complexity of this creation, the cost of his prophetic act.

His eyes were wet as he counted back the seconds; aeons passed, and time seemed to return to that endless eternity when the universe blasted into existence. First, the chaos, yes; but then the most peculiar order, and then - BANG - a vast galaxy of habitable planets, his home in the nothingness.

 _It’s not just a_ _strategic_ _move_ , he thought. _This is creation._

The light was long gone, and they still stood there, thousands and thousands and thousands, staring at the sky, motionless, wordless.

Hux’s mind was blank like the fields of snow surrounding him; a foreign calmness spread over him, and he wanted to start crying with relief. Tears ran down his face, but he couldn’t allow himself more, he had to swallow back the sobs.

 

And then life went on. He was on a strategical meeting with the Council of the Generals, and they were already planning their next move, but a part of him was left standing there, watching the brilliance of the blood red beam, the manifestation of hope, of power.

Every time he blinked, that beautiful shining sparkled up behind his eyelids. His heart was still beating too fast. He got a report that the _Finalizer_ made a strategic retreat from Takodana, which meant he’d have to face Ren again. He wanted to ask him, casually, _what was it like, how did it feel,_ and he wanted Ren to tell him everything, like he used to, when he wouldn’t shut up for hours, talking till his voice was hoarse. He wanted to have the time again to listen.

 

Ren returned without the droid. Hux was waiting for him in the hangar. He probably shouldn’t have. He was busier than ever, which was really saying something. Still, he told himself that retrieving the droid was a matter of grave importance, and he himself was the only person who could be trusted with it.

Ren’s shuttle descended like some ancient airborne creature. Two stormtroopers hurried down the ramp, and Ren was following them, cradling a girl in his arms.

“I thought there was a law against making droids lifelike,” Hux noted. Ren faltered, then he hurried his steps. “Isn’t technology amazing? It looks just like a human being.”

“Very funny,” Ren mumbled, passing him. Hux pursued him, and frowned down at the girl. She was clutching Ren’s cowl the same way some unfortunate child would seek comfort in the closeness of their deadbeat father, her grip tight in her senseless sleep.

“I’m not amused,” Hux said.

“She’s seen the map.”

“She’s _seen_ it?”

“She knows where Skywalker is.”

“What about the droid?”

“The Resistance attacked, we retreated, the droid-”

“ _Is with them_?”

“It doesn’t matter now,” Ren insisted. “We have everything we need.”

Hux glanced at the girl again. She was wearing crude clothes, and she must’ve been around nineteen. She smelled of the soap the common people made of animal fat and herbs, and, above that, there was the scent of sweet sweat and earth.

“Is she valuable enough that the Resistance might want to retrieve her? Launch an attack?”

“She’s valuable, but they don’t know it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Just look at her. Who could tell?”

Hux knew that he was supposed to see a dirty beggar from the desert, a scrawny teenager, but all his mind supplied was that she looked familiar, but not like he ever met her; like he was _supposed_ to meet her, and it made him really confused and uncomfortable, because it probably had to do with the Force. He followed Ren in sullen silence.

Ren brought the girl to the torture chamber, and cuffed her to the interrogation chair. Hux was standing by, hands clasped over his chest, and he told himself he wouldn’t leave until he got some intel. He was eyeing the glass cupola, then the control panels, and promptly ignored his comm.

“I don’t advise you to be present for the procedure; she might harm you,” Ren said, voice low. He had taken off the mask. Hux glanced at him, then at the girl, then back at him. He scowled.

“Do you hope she’ll recognise you?”

“I’m wondering whether she will,” Ren confessed, and stepped back, looking at his handiwork with no small amount of pride. He had an itching curiosity in his gaze, like he got a present he couldn’t open just yet. Hux walked up to him.

“It’s an unnecessary risk.”

“You needn’t worry.”

“Didn’t you just tell me she could harm me? Didn’t she inherit your abilities?”

They looked at each other. Ren was distraught and impatient, and he kept flexing his fingers.

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Come on, Ren. She’s the exact image of your grandmother.”

“What a peculiar observation.”

“Does she have a name?”

“She does,” Ren said. “I don’t trust you enough to tell you, though.” He pressed a brief kiss to the corner of his mouth as if he was saying sorry. Hux parted his lips; a shared breath, hot and wet.

“I don’t have time for this,” Hux whispered. Ren nodded, but it didn’t seem like he understood. Hux pulled back, wrapping his arms around himself, and looked at the girl again. “How powerful is she?”

“I don’t know yet. Neither does she.”

“So you _are_ taking a risk.”

“Oh, no. It’s not like that. Once I’m in her head, she’ll be harmless.”

“Still, at present, she isn’t. She’s a safety hazard.”

“No. She’s, she’s the sun. Deadly if you get too close, but radiating and- Don’t look at me like that, uhm, let me show you.” He reached out, and Hux pulled back.

“Ren,” he warned.

“Just… please, let me. Please.”

His face was open and vulnerable. Hux didn’t say anything, but he let Ren step behind him and raise his hands over his temples. He could feel his breath on his nape, and it made him tremble.

“I need you to focus.”

“I’m focusing, and nothing is happening, I’m not Force-sensitive.”

“Did you close your eyes?”

“Why?”

“Open them. Look up.”

Hux reluctantly complied, and then his eyes widened in surprise. The girl was glowing: light poured from her open lips, her ears, her nostrils, sunshine twinkled under her twitching eyelids. Hux squinted.

“Is this the Force?” he asked, and then bit down on his lips, the question sounded so silly.

“The Light side of it, yes. I’m uh, trying to visualise it so you can see. But it’s like, you know, a diagram of gravity, for example.”

Hux averted his gaze.

“Do you understand now?” Ren asked eagerly, dropping his hands. They came to rest on Hux’s shoulders. He felt like he was being used as a shield.

“You brought a superweapon to my base.”

“So the Resistance won’t have it.”

“Can you utilize her?”

“I will.”

Hux stepped aside, greatcoat fanning out.

“I’ll leave you to it. And Ren?”

“Yes, General?”

“This is everything you’ve accomplished this past month.” Hux indicated the girl with his cybernetic hand. “I don’t care whether she’s your little sister, your niece, your cousin, your Force-bound kinperson, your daughter, your whatever-”

“My daugh-!? I was _ten_! You never listen to-”

“I swear if you dare to step in front of Leader Snoke without the coordinates, I’ll slap that pretty face of yours,” Hux said, slow and articulated. “It’s your last chance to prove yourself. Your last chance, Ren, do you understand?”

Ren grimaced, and summoned his helmet with a theatrical gesture.

“Do you understand, Ren?” Hux repeated.

“Fuck off.”

“What’s her name?”

Ren didn’t tell him, and Hux left with a condemning scoff.

 

He stopped outside the door to wait out the interrogation. He got his datapad from his pocket to get some work done meanwhile, but he had a hard time focusing on the screen. He was exhausted, on the verge of collapsing. The only thing which kept him on his feet was the promise of blessed and undisturbed sleep once they fired the Weapon again.

He wanted to tell Ren how it felt, standing there, becoming more than himself, some historical figure or a force of nature. Now he was hollowed out, the shrinking shadow of that great man who commanded fire. Of course, they agreed not to discuss emotions.

He decided he’d give Ren five minutes to finish. That should suffice. He couldn’t hear screaming and sobbing, which was weird - they usually started at this point. Two minutes, and the girl raised her voice; she didn’t sound like she was in pain - she just sounded pissed and disgusted, but Hux couldn’t understand what she was saying.

Maybe it meant that she recognised Ren. Maybe it didn’t. They were all so brave before the torture began, they were all so fearless and confident, but Hux never met any prisoner who couldn’t be torn to shreds by Ren.

The door opened, and Ren stormed out. His eyes were wet, and he was blinded and bewildered; he didn’t even notice Hux, he just trotted off, and it looked like he was fleeing. 

Hux pressed his lips to a thin line, and stepped inside. The girl snarled at him, baring her teeth; her chest was heaving, and she looked terrified. Hux glanced at her coolly.

“As you were,” he said, and sent in the nearest stormtrooper to stand guard.

He started after Ren, and soon caught up. Ren didn’t see him as they walked through the corridors and up the path leading to the hill; he kept muttering, _that can’t be, that can’t be, no oh no oh no,_ his Corellian accent more prominent than ever. He was swaying in the wind. It seemed to carry him into the assembly chamber, and Hux waited till the door closed behind him. Ten, nine, eight, seven, six - he heard Snoke shouting:

“The scavenger resisted _you_?!”

“She's strong with the Force, untrained, but stronger than she knows!”

“And the droid?”

Hux made his entrance then. He walked in like an avenging god.

“Ren believed it was no longer valuable to us,” he announced. Ren turned to him, then averted his gaze. Ashamed, as he should be. “That the girl was all we needed,” Hux went on. “As a result, the droid has most likely been returned to the hands of the enemy. They may have the map already.”

Snoke seemed to come to his senses, and he muttered:

“Then the Resistance must be destroyed before they get to Skywalker.”

 _That’s been my fucking plan all along_ , Hux thought, but what he said was:

“We have their location. We tracked their reconnaissance ship to the Ileenium system.”

“Good. Then we will crush them once and for all. Prepare the Weapon.”

Ren pleaded:

“Supreme Leader, I can get the map from the girl. I just need your guidance.”

It was so typical. The only thing Ren needed was to be told exactly what to do. Hux turned on his heels, and left.

 

Ren ran after him, through the snow, clutching his helmet.

“Wait!” he yelled. “Wait! Damn you, wait for me!”

Hux refused to slow down. He walked like he was marching away from a burning city. Ren reached for him, and then he couldn’t go on - he was frozen in place, and couldn’t even speak. Ren got close enough to brush shoulders, and Hux was released. He grabbed the front of Ren’s robes, and pulled him close.

“Never _ever_ dare to-”

“Yeah, I know, I know, sorry.”

Hux pushed him back, and resumed walking. Ren pursued him like an insistent ghost, his voice smooth and velvety, but with the edge of urgency.

“Listen to me. You need to help me.”

“Why should I?”

“Co-operation?”

“If you think co-operation is anything like-”

“General,” Ren pleaded, and then added in a more sinister tone, “ _Hux_.”

“ _What_.”

“What should be done about the girl?”

“It’s your mess. Clean it up yourself.” Hux ran his hand through his hair, and could feel Ren glaring at him. “I have neither the time nor the patience to deal with your failure, understand? So you were right. The girl is valuable. Good for us. You can’t control her.  They’ll come to get her, right. I’d like to see them try. They’d have to break atmo at lightspeed and go through the planetary shield, which is physically impossible.”

“It’s improbable,” Ren interrupted, “not impossible. I could do it.”

“Yes, with magic.”

“A good enough pilot-”

“A good enough pilot would never take the odds. They’d need the Force. So I’m a bit wary that apparently they’re regrouping the Jedi.”

“There’s only two left in the galaxy. You’re welcome.”

“One was enough at the wrong place and in the wrong time to make the Empire fall.”

“So now you’re worried about Skywalker? High time.”

“Don’t forget that he had an army to support him. I don’t think it’ll happen again; I don’t think they’ll be able to convince a desolated deserter with ludicrous ideas about peace to come back and fight again. We have time on our side. I’m worried about the girl, though; but not enough to drop everything. We’re winning. You want advice?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Ren gritted, and halted as Hux turned to face him.

“Summon your Knights,” Hux said; Ren chuckled with dry humour.

“I have to complete this mission on my own.”

“Maybe prove your worth at a more convenient time, how about that? Look, I can guarantee that we won’t have to engage in combat today, or tomorrow, or the day after that: I’ve shuttered the Republic, I’ll break the Resistance. But they won’t go out without a fight. There’ll be war, a short one, if I can help it, but you’ll be right in the middle of it; and without your Knights, you’re doomed to perish.”

“It’s kinda ironic that you’re the one lecturing me on warfare.”

“I’m saving your life, so kindly shut up,” Hux said calmly. “I know what you’re capable of. I also know your limits. You weren’t trained in single combat. You’re used to having your fellow warriors with you, you synchronize every moment with them, that’s how you work, that’s how you plan. If you twirl and tumble during a duel, no one will be there to have your back. It’s like you attempted to play grav-ball without a team. A lone kicker is not enough to win the game, however talented he is.”

Ren was looking down at his boots, and didn’t comment. His hair fell over his face. Hux bent a bit so he could look him in the eyes; he expected rage or an arrogant sneer - not that wide-eyed look of fear.

“You must know,” Ren muttered, “that it’s not my decision.”

“What does Snoke want with the girl?”

“To absorb her power, I think.”

“And you’re not fond of the idea?”

“I think it’d be a waste. She should join the Knights. I told her I could do anything I wanted with her;  and I want her to be one of us.”

“You have my full support, but your timing is off.” He shook his head, and mumbled to himself: “It’s like Snoke was…” He made a face, and straightened up. Ren followed him as he resumed walking towards the inevitable. “Why does Snoke insist  that you do this alone?”

“Because I have to defeat myself.”

“Can’t your spiritual advancement wait a bit? Just until we win the war.”

“It’s time,” Ren answered, but he didn’t sound convinced. “You know where the droid is, don’t you?”

“It’s gone. It’s on a YT-1300fp.”

“On the Millennium Falcon.”

“That’s correct.”

“That’s Han Solo’s ship.”

“I know.”

“The Supreme Leader wants me to kill him. Our paths will cross soon. And then I’ll have to do it.”

“I see,” Hux supplied, but Ren didn’t go on. He had a strange look on his face.

“Was it so easy?”

“Beg your pardon?”

“Killing your dad. Was it so easy?”

“Why do you think I killed him?”

“Hux.”

“Maybe I just feel responsible,” Hux huffed. “Maybe that’s what you can sense in my energy field or whatever.”

“Maybe.”

“They’ve dropped the charges.”

“There’s been charges?”

“Of course. Seventy percent of civilian murders are connected to family.”

“You had an argument over dinner.”

“We always argued. Especially over dinner.”

Hux searched his pockets for his cigarra case. He didn’t have it with him. The lights of the barrack blinked in the distance, and he yearned to be there, to be done with this conversation and with Ren. The pines roared.

“He didn’t want you to join the army,” Ren started, expression vacant. “You went to bed early. Stayed up to read. You heard something. You heard him call your name. Armitage.”  

“Thank you, I remember quite well,” Hux interrupted. “Is there no way I can get you out of my head?”

“I never pried. You’re reliving it in your dreams. You walked through the corridors. The droids were powered off. You thought maybe he didn’t take his medicine after dinner. He was so mad. Maybe he forgot. You heard him call out again. You never heard him pronounce your name like that. Like he needed you. You stood by the door. It opened. You watched.”

“You might have to watch your parents die as well. You might be directly responsible. You might deny them help. They’re both generals, they’ve pledged allegiance to the Rebels; now your mother is connected to the Resistance and judged by the evidence we have, your father joined them as well, as expected. You must’ve known that they’d die in this war. You never thought about that?”

“They’re Ben Solo’s parents,” Ren said. “I don’t think about them.”

“So that’s why you wake up screaming for your mother?”

“That was one time.”

“Three times.”

“I can’t do anything about my dreams.”

“Neither can I.”

There was a brief pause. Ren licked his lips. The wind screamed. They were close now.

“You stepped over the threshold. You crouched down, hands folded over your knees. You were rocking on your heels.”

“For stars’ sake, Ren,” Hux groaned. “You know the answer. You know it won’t be easy.  You know it’ll tear you apart. You know you’ll still do it. You expect to gain something, something you want badly. So this is how it is.”

“This is how it is,” Ren repeated.

“You don’t have a choice. We’ve all made sacrifices to win this war.”

“Come on now, what did you sacrifice?”

“You.”

“Oh,” Ren blinked. “ _Oh_.”

They reached the entrance. Ren got too warm during their walk, so he started shredding of the cowl while awkwardly cradling the helmet. Hux stopped by him, and watched him fumble, with his head tilted.

“Ren?”

Ren looked at him, hopeful and unbelieving. Hux slapped him. His leather gloves cracked, and Ren hissed. He looked defeated. Hux leant closer.

“Don’t you dare disappoint me ever again.”

He stepped inside.

 

The girl has escaped during their little heart-to-heart. Hux didn’t even bat an eye.

He ordered the recharge of the Weapon. Once they fire it, no mistakes and misfortunes will matter anymore. He just needed to do this one thing. Then there’d be meetings upon meetings, and new allegiances and surrenders. There’d be pacts and treaties and there’d be peace. He needn’t worry about Ren. He needn’t worry about the plan.

The sun poured down from the sky. Hux watched it from behind the window. He caught a glimpse of his reflection. He looked troubled. He turned away in distaste, and resumed his pacing, up and down and around and around. His steps were light and silent.

“Report.”

“Weapon charged in fifteen minutes, sir.”

He headed away. Fifteen minutes. What could go wrong in fifteen minutes? His comm buzzed. It was a notification that Ren put every hangar on lockdown. It was a desperate move, but a good one. Hux was a bit hurt that he didn’t bother to send out the message personally. It was silly.

Fourteen minutes. He still tried to convince himself that all would be well. Then the planetary shield opened.

Panic swept through the control room like a cool gust of wind. Hux nudged the closest gray-faced technician out of the way, and stepped to the control panel, typing in the overriding code. He knew it was already too late. His fingers froze mid-air when he realized that they’ve used Phasma’s clearance number. How, how, how? He resumed work, brows furrowed. A loving wife, a promise of a family. That must be it. Blackmail. Something to lose. Something which was far more important than dying for an idea.

Moreover, Phasma knew that Starkiller was not their only shot at victory: just their best shot.

No sooner had he finished with repairing the shield than X-wings started showering from the sky like so many meteoroids. He rushed to the window, and watched the oscillator flare up again and again as they opened fire. He turned to Colonel Datoo, who was waiting for orders.

“Dispatch all squadrons.”

“Yes, General.”

The crew was in full swing again. They weren’t used to accidents, but they could handle a fight alright. Hux turned back to the window, throat tight. Ren locked the hangars down, which meant that they wouldn’t be able to mobilize the units in time. The Resistance wouldn’t engage in air battle: apparently, their sole goal was to blow up the oscillator, whatever it might take. They won’t be distracted, and they won’t be delayed. They could still be _stopped_ , Hux believed.

Following his instructions, the fighters succeeded in drawing off the X-wings from the oscillator. Ren and his troopers had found the saboteurs. For a few moments, he could breathe again, then the very air was knocked out of his lungs as he watched a series of detonations flaring up. The oscillator was still operational, but right then, it didn’t matter. He could only stare at the signal of Ren’s tracker on the screen of his datapad. Ren had been right in the middle of the explosion.

That was when Hux realised that they’d already lost everything.

“Weapon at full capacity in thirty seconds.”

He couldn’t give up. Not yet. The Weapon had to be fired. Ren had to be alive. They were his responsibility. Ren’s tracker was still giving off a weak signal which meant that at least his body was still intact, and... (Oh, stars. Oh, fuck.)

 

He began to run.

 

He was surrounded by bluish darkness. The earth slumped under his steps. The snow melted. He was heading for the audition room, to Leader Snoke.

It was the only way his fleeing would not be seen for what it was, betrayal and cowardice. He was pursued by howling, snapping noises, which reminded him of bones breaking. His reality was wasting away, and he just ran, slipping now and again. Lava and the energy from a murdered sun followed him in ever-widening cracks.

He kept looking behind his back, expecting Ren to somehow just be there. They should plead to be relieved of duty together.

The ones who stayed behind to die a heroic and foolish death didn’t have his respect. They’d be remembered as martyrs, martyrs with forgotten names. He had an intention to live. To fix everything.

He reached the crumbling room. He felt sick.

“The fuel cells have ruptured. The collapse of the planet has begun.” The words poured out like vomit. His voice sounded hollow to his ears. He was empty.

He boarded Ren’s shuttle, and set out to search for him, as ordered. He felt like it was just happening to him, like he was no longer in control of his actions. Like he never was. He watched the fiery veins of lava pulsing on the ashen skin of the earth, sun-fire flowing like blood. In the end, this was what he created. Something incredibly powerful - shattered.

He leant over Killric’s shoulder to watch the twisted landscape through the viewport, trying to spot Ren, to locate him ahead of the tracker. To find him, and find him alive. What were his last words to him? He slapped him, and he said. He said.

“Don’t die on me, you twit,” he mouthed, eyes darting between the viewpoint and the screen of the datapad. “Don’t you dare.”

And then - there. A patch of black. The trees were collapsing around him. He was lying in the snow, a chasm gaping at his feet. Killric got as close as he could. The rift was spitting fire, the ice snizzling at the onslaught of heat. Hux didn’t wait for the ramp to be lowered, he leapt into the snow, and darted ahead. Ren seemed motionless. The snow around him was red and purple.

Hux neared him, and crouched down, taking a quick catalogue of injuries. The most prominent one was the burned slice across his face, and the most serious wound seemed to be on his side. His robes were soaked with blood. Hux gripped his shoulder, and rolled him to his back. That’s when he noticed the gash under Ren’s collarbone, and the man’s fingers slipping in and out as he fingered the wound wide open. He used pain and punishment to stay conscious. Hux’s heart sank.

“I’m here,” he said. He didn’t know what else should he add. The only reply was the obscene sound of wet flesh; Ren’s eyes were open, but unseeing, delirious with suffering. “I’ll lift you up now; can you hold onto my shoulders? We must hurry up.”

Ren turned to him, his hair falling over his face, stray strands sticking to the scar. He looked confused. Hux attempted to lift him; he was a dead weight. He leant his forehead to Hux shoulder. He was cold as death.

“Hold me,” Hux asked in vain. He had to entwine Ren’s arms around his neck by himself. The wounded one was alarmingly limp. The initial cut mustn’t have been too deep, but Ren’s ministrations did some serious damage. Hux hooked his arms under Ren’s knees, and thankfully, Ren curled close, making it a bit easier to hoist him up. Still, he couldn’t have done it without the enchantments of the cybernetic arm. He hugged Ren with all his strength, and almost tipped off-balance. He trudged through the snow - just a few steps to the railing. For a moment, they were illuminated by blue light, then it was gone. Killric came running, and Hux let him help, although with a certain amount of disdain.

“You’re safe now, you’re safe,” Hux kept on repeating as they boarded. They laid Ren over a narrow leather bench, and then Killric rushed to the cockpit, cursing under his breath. Hux dropped to his knees beside Ren. They’d need medical droids and a bacta tank, but the shuttle wasn’t equipped with either. All it had was a battered little medpac with outdated equipment. Hux opened it in a frenzy, and cut away Ren’s clothes with a pair of laser-scissors. There was something gut-wrenching about baring his perfect body this way. He fumbled for the medisensor, hoping that it’d tell him a different story than what Ren’s injuries indicated.

He ran a quick scan on the bruised, glistening wound on Ren’s side. He got shot through, somehow. The medisensor beeped. _Immediate medical attention needed_.

“General?” Killric called.

“Not now.”

“The planet-”

Hux frowned at the rear viewports. He was faced with the brilliance of the sun he destroyed. Somehow, he was unphased. His mind was preoccupied with whether he should use the irrigation bulb or bacta before he put on the spray-bandages, and the stim-shot he’d probably have to administer.

“Jump to hyperspace,” he mumbled as he turned back to Ren. His shoulders dropped.

“I can’t! We don’t have time left, we… We are...”

Hux glanced at the erupting base again.

“I see,” he commented. He laid his gloved hand over Ren’s heart. It was beating steadily. He closed his eyes for a moment. He knew that his shock would dissipate. He knew that reality would hit him again just when it got the most horrible; just when it was over. He curled his fingers, like he was trying to enclasp Ren’s heart.

“What the-!” Killric shouted. Hux could see it behind closed eyelids: a glorious, lethal red sweeping over them, engulfing the shuttle. He heard the boom of energy rattle every part of the ship, and then. Then they lived.

He looked up. The outer space was still aflame, blinding beams of light roaring around, but they seemed to slide off the shuttle the same way raindrops roll off waxy leaves. Ren was reaching out with the arm he could still move. His face was pale and strained as he fought off the phantom energy.

He started screaming.

Hux couldn’t bare hear it, but the abrupt silence which followed was even more terrible. The energy dissipated, and there was darkness. Ren’s chest was heaving as he gulped down sobby breaths. He looked drained. Hux wanted to cradle him in his arms again, but he knew he shouldn’t move him. He wanted to ease him into slumber with careful caresses, but Ren shouldn’t sleep for hours yet.

Ren seemed to start regaining some sense of consciousness. He smiled at Hux, sad and crooked. It made the scar on his face bleed again.

“There,” he said.

 

They got home. Hux waited for the medics in the hangar, by Ren’s side, and followed them to the medbay. It was a full house. The beds were removed, and sleeping bags were laid down. Hux was informed that there was a shortage of bacta, so they had to switch to using kolto. He was also informed that he should probably let go of Ren’s hand.  Then Ren was taken away. He let it happen.

He strolled over the bridge the same way he always did. There was work to be done. He had been diagnosed with sleep deprivation and combat stress reaction, and he embraced it. He needed that hideous calmness of it. He desperately needed not to be himself. He just needed to be a general. Someone capable.

He made an encompassing list of casualties. He had the presence of mind to color code it. He settled to reorganize the First Order fleet. He expected the morale to hit an all time low, but the crew was working like it was just yet another cycle, except none of them retired to their quarters once their shifts were over. None of them wanted to be left alone with their questions. They kept close, and wanted orders from Hux.  At one point, Phasma dropped in with a stolen X-wing and a crushed left leg. She kept talking about the Force, and then submitted herself to reconditioning. She said she needed it.

Ren had to be quarantined. He was emitting some kind of energy which ruined the equipment, and his kolto-tank cracked open. He was screaming for Hux when his drugs-infused sleep got interrupted, but by the time Hux got there, Ren was sedated again and put into a new kolto-tank. Hux felt useless and powerless as he was standing there, facing the tank. He expected to feel some kind of bitter gratification staring at the stump of Ren’s arm, but he couldn’t. The medical droids were running on emergency mode. They’ve amputated damaged limbs of every endangered patient. It was common practice. And yet. The first emotion he could muster up since the long hours of Starkiller’s destruction was rage. He wanted to take those droids apart, bit by bit. He wished they could feel pain.

He laid his fingers over the wall of Ren’s tank. It was his cybernetic hand. His breath fogged up the glass with every exhale. They sounded very ragged.

 

When Ren woke up tugged in a sleeping bag, Hux was sitting by his side on a stall, scrolling through his datapad. Ren’s face was still disfigured; kolto could do many things, but it couldn’t work wonders. His hair was damp, and it was tugged behind his ears. He looked miserable. Hux knew he wasn’t any better. They shared a wordless glance. Hux tried to smile, and failed.

The medical droid rolled closer, and asked Ren:

“Do you know where you are, sir?”

Ren scowled, and it made Hux’s blood run cold. What if Ren couldn’t remember. What if he. Hux straightened up, lowering the datapad.

“I’m abroad the Finalizer, I think,” Ren said, somewhat slurred. He looked at Hux. “Can I stay?”

Before Hux could say anything, the droid chimed in:

“Very well, sir. Can you recall your name?”

Ren let out a dry chuckle.

“It’s Ben Solo. I’m still just Ben Fucking Solo.”

“I’m afraid you might be experiencing memory loss,” the droid began to explain, but Hux interrupted it:

“Thank you. Could you give us some privacy, please? We have much to discuss.”

“As you wish, General.”

“As you wish, General,” Ben imitated, and they looked at each other again. Hux bit his trembling lower lip, but an entirely undignified snuffle betrayed him. He swallowed his smile back, and took a calming breath.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you,” he began. “I think I should do it before it’s too late.”

“I’ll live.”

Hux snorted.

“You don’t want to hear it, then?”

“That’s not what I said, smartass.”

 

Seven cycles passed. Hux had direct orders to bring Kylo Ren to Snoke; he never said he’d go alone, or that he’d be in a hurry. He only agreed to the delivery, and he almost managed to complete it.

General Solo marched over the _Finalizer_ ’s main bridge. He walked with a perpetual limp, but his steps were easy. He held his head high, hands curled into fists. He was followed by six odd-looking officers, his loyal followers, who refused to meet anyone’s gaze, and seemed rather self-conscious about their faces. The General stopped short next to Hux, and inclined his head.

“Shall we proceed?” he asked. Hux nodded his agreement.  They both turned to the viewport.

The First Order’s fleet responded to Hux’s call. They were gathered around the hidden little moon Snoke resided on. One could say that they were forming a blockade. Ben Solo glanced down at the crystallised surface, and hummed. Hux was watching him intently. His soft hair fell over his face.

“Ready,” Ben said. The radio transmission cracked as the generals repeated the order, all thirthy-seven of them. “Aim,” he continued.

Somebody had to take the blame. That’s what Hux’s speech was about at the Council of the Generals: Snoke wanted a scapegoat. Given the immense loss, he’d need more, he’d need a tribe. He’d sacrifice them, one by one, unless they acted first.

Ben’s hand brushed over his, briefly, testing; cybernetic and cybernetic.

The generals had gathered around a round table, most of them holos. Hux stepped on top of it, and walked around, looking each of them in the eyes.

“Do any of you feel ready to die for _him_? He’s our Leader; he’s not the Order. Do you want to die just because he allowed this failure to happen?”

He had been ready for interruptions and accusations. He had been ready to fight for his cause, but the tired eyes of his fellow generals had reflected: _help us._ _You’re our only hope._

Ben whispered: “Your turn. You’re better at it, anyway.”

Hux’s fingers ghosted over Ben’s knuckles, the faintest caress. Ben looked at him, lashes heavy.

“Fire,” Hux said. They were still turned to each other when the cannons flared up. Blue and red radiated. Ben smirked, and raised Hux’s hand to his lips. It was just a hint of a kiss.

“Pleasure working with you,” Ben murmured as he stepped back.

“Get used to it,” Hux told him. Ben arched an eyebrow, and fell in formation with his officers the same soundless way birds fly in a V. Hux fancied he could hear great wings flapping.

The crumbling moon erupted darkness. It was a substance between liquid and mist, spreading, spreading, swallowing up everything. Ben lift his hand, and spread his fingers. Light crackled at his fingertips, sharp and angry. Hux was watching him, turning away from the viewport completely. Everybody else on the bridge gazed into the emptiness, mouths open. The air was heavy with electricity.

Hux looked at Ben, the man he met all those years ago on a planet which no longer existed. They were both boys back then. He was a second lieutenant, and Ben called himself Kylo Ren.

Hux closed his eyes, just for a moment, just to brace himself. Next time he opened them, the world would be forever changed; or there would be nothing left of it, not for him.

He was ready to take his chances.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Psychomachia** /saɪkəʊˈmækɪə/ (n.) - conflict of the soul, from Greek _psukhē_ spirit + _makhē_ battle, coined by Prudentius and mentioned by my _Classics on Screen_ professor while I was drafting the first chapter on the margin. (And I was like, "that's such a cool title, so deep and pretentious and impossible to remember, people will _love_ it.")
> 
> I promised myself I wouldn't get all emotional in the endnotes, but... guys, gals, and non-binary pals [[x](https://twitter.com/thomassanders/status/657921137867927552)], thank you so, so much for all the love you've shown to this fic! It means the world - skratch that, the galaxy to me. Thank you, thank you, thank you! 
> 
> If _Psychomachia_ inspires you to make any kind of art (fanart, cosplay, fanmix, podfic, a musical) please do let me know, I'd be super happy to share it!
> 
> Thanks for the beta reading to [femalespock](http://femalespock.tumblr.com) \- you did a wonderful job, and the chapter reads so much better with your help; you're a star ☆
> 
> Thanisson would like you to know that Millicent is quite well.
> 
> Find me on tumblr: [longstoryshortikilledhim](https://longstoryshortikilledhim.tumblr.com) // there's a [#psychomachia tag](http://longstoryshortikilledhim.tumblr.com/tagged/psychomachia) with all the wonderful fanart made for the fic, a collection of the moodboards, music, inspiration pics and Q&As *✲ﾟ*


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